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CHARGING FURIOUSLY, IT SPRANG CLEAR OF THE WATER.” 

{See page 1 12 ) 



Ig tef mh 
(Frail 

Bob Leach’s Adventures in Florida 


FISHER AMES, Jr. 

Illustrated by 

CHARLES LIVINGSTON BULL 


CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
NEW YORK : : : 1910 




Copyright, igog 
By Brown and Page 


Copyright, igio 

By Charles Scribner’s Sons 


C)CI.A27i4r)5 


DEDICATED 


dLa JHp iHotijer 


PREFACE 


To the boys who may read By Reef and 
Trail,, I wish to say that I have spent many 
delightful months hunting and fishing among the 
scenes this book tries to picture. My friend Bob, 
for the character of the young hero of By Reef 
AND Trail is drawn from real life, lives on the 
Florida coast and in many exciting expeditions 
he was my guide and instructor. He took me 
on my first alligator hunt, and showed me how 
the strange brown pelicans rear their young, and 
the keys where the giant loggerhead comes 
ashore to lay her eggs. I have never met a truer 
sportsman than Bob, or a keener student of 
wild life. 

In the hope that some of my readers may 
be interested in this vital and fascinating sub- 
ject, I have put some advice on outdoor life 
and a glossary concerning the natural history 

vii 


PREFACE 


viii 

appearing in this story at the back of the 
book in the form of an appendix. But though 
book knowledge is essential in its way the best 
advice I can give my young readers is to go afield 
themselves and see things with their own eyes. 
Learn to observe. It is an art that is not easy to 
acquire, but fortunately it is within everyone’s 
reach, and once mastered no part of the world 
will seem narrow or barren. Bob has had little 
schooling, but as the plume-hunter, Braithe, said : 
he has a pair of eyes.” 

Some day I hope to meet again the tall, brown 
young Floridian whose pair of eyes revealed so 
much to me that was new and instructive. I 
understand that Bob contemplates a prospecting 
trip to the little known Gulf of California. If 
he does I know he will see what there is to be 
seen, and perhaps I can persuade him to let me 
tell the story. 


Fisher Ames, Jr. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 


I. 

“ Yellow-Eyes ’’ 

I 

11. 

A Change of Horizon .... 

20 

III. 

Personal Encounter .... 

• 43 

IV. 

A Sea Steed 

• 65 

V. 

The Silver King 

. 84 

VI. 

The Giant Ray 

102 

VII. 

The Pests of the Swamp . 

. 117 

VIII. 

The III Wind 

• 139 

IX. 

A Deputy Warden .... 

. 160 

X. 

In Pigeon Hammock .... 

. 181 

XI. 

To Camel Cay 

. 204 

XII. 

The Rival Seekers .... 

. 228 

XIII. 

The Treasure 

• 255 

XIV. 

Triumphant 

Appendix 

• 275 


Glossary 



Outdoor Advice 

. 306 


V 


V 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


• 

PAGE 

“ Charging furiously, it sprang clear of the 

water” (see page I12) .... Frontispiece 

The boar blew one challenging blast, and 

charged” 12 \'' 

Holly and Alice suddenly bolted down the 

ROAD ” 3 1 W'*' 

** Raised him dripping to the string-piece ” . 60 

The loggerhead plunged into the water ” . 721^ 

Before the boys could move he was upon 

THEM ” 98^^ 

“ The bear had uncovered the first layer of 

eggs” 126 

“ Every ounce of his weight was behind his 

blows” 142 

“Here at last was something significant” . 170 

“ The great bird hurtled off among the water- 

oaks ” 186 

“ Flocks of gulls and terns circled around 

them” 216 

“ Fell on his knees and dug with bare hands ” 250%/ 

“ The next plunge might wreck them ” . . 276 




V 


i 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


CHAPTER I 

YELLOW - EYES '''' 

The lean black boar wriggled the moist disk 
of his snout. Woo-oof, wo of -oof! he warned. 
Then with a stamp he bolted, clearing a way 
through the rattling cane for his troop. But 
one tender little piglet was a fraction of a second 
too late, and his thin shriek of despair lent wings 
to the heels of the others. 

The big cat stood with a forepaw on the suck- 
ling, and swept the tiny clearing with a menacing 
glance, the tip of his tail twitching. He shrank 
with a snarl and an upward look as a Carolina 
dove swung above the cane; then seizing the 
pig by the nape of the neck, he started back to 
his lair. 

Usually the brake was moist and green, but 


2 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


a dry autumn and drier winter had left it a 
yellow, dusty shell of its old self. The panther, 
lithe and stealthy as he was, made more noise 
in his retreat than he liked, and as the dry reeds 
chafed and creaked, he quickened his steps and 
growled uneasily. All his senses were sharpened 
by the kill he had made; but the wind was trav- 
elling with him, and he did not smell the odor 
of man until it was too late, and he stood on 
the edge of the cane-brake face to face with a 
tall boy. 

The boy was more surprised than the panther. 
He had never seen one before, but he recognized 
the little spotted pig. It was his property, or 
had been before the panther appropriated it, and 
the boy felt a sudden fury at the theft. He swung 
his gun up to his shoulder and fired both barrels 
at the tawny head. When the smoke lifted he 
had the dead pig fast enough, but the panther, 
very much alive, was leaping back through the 
brake at top speed. 

Well, I swan ! said the boy, reflectively. ‘‘ I 
didn’t know there were any of those critters about 
here. Wish I’d had something besides snipe-shot 
in old Bess.” 


‘‘YELLOW -EYES** 3 

He turned the pig over and examined with 
interest the deep holes made by the cat’s fangs. 

“ There’s some roasting-meat on it, anyway,” 
he thought. “ But he would have been an awful 
fine pig if he’d had a chance to grow. He always 
was the fattest. Reckon that’s why Yellow-Eyes 
picked him.” 

As he had hoped, his news created a great 
sensation at home. His two little sisters wept 
with fright at his description of Yellow-Eyes, 
and his mother scolded him for firing at the 
beast, but even more satisfactory was the im- 
pression produced upon his father. 

Mr. Leach was a man who belied his name. 
He never stuck to anything, and very few things 
— money included — stuck to him. With high 
momentary hopes he had engaged in various oc- 
cupations, one after another, but something had 
always happened to settle ” each and all. His 
favorite expression of defeat was, ‘‘ That set- 
tles it.” 

“ I came to this place to raise pigs,” he said, 
mournfully. “ It’s a first-rate place for ’em ; 
plenty of mast in the uplands, and roots and such 
in the brake. I did have hopes, ma, — I’ll say 


4 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

it now, — but Bob’s seen a panther, and that 
settles it.” 

“Why should one panther settle it?” asked 
Bob, somewhat defiantly. 

The news had so depressed Mr. Leach that he 
felt the immediate need of substantial nourish- 
ment, and it was not until “ ma ” had placed some 
“ white meat ” and grits and a cup of well-stewed 
coffee before him that he would speak about the 
matter. His information was really three parts 
superstition, but of that his audience were un- 
conscious. 

“ Panthers,” said Mr. Leach, “ are peculiar. 
They move here and there,” — he waved his 
knife to indicate the migratory habits of the 
creature, — “ until they land on a place that has 
good food, like my pigs, and they’ll stay there 
till they’ve eaten up every last scrap of it. Par- 
ticularly pigs. When a panther finds a drove 
of pigs, you might as well give him the pigs at 
once and be done with it. This critter’ll finish 
mine, and then he’ll move on to Simmons’s, and 
wind up with Hedge’s. You can’t trap ’em, and 
there isn’t any use to gun for ’em unless you’ve 
got a trained dog. The pig business is settled 


YELLOW -EYE^’* 5 

in these parts, and that’s the long and short of 
it” 

Perhaps Clipper could smell him out,” sug- 
gested Bob. 

Mr. Leach laughed mirthlessly. 

‘‘ Unless you’re tired of Clipper, you’ll leave 
him behind the stove,” he said. “ There’s no 
sense giving that panther all our live stock.” 

“ Well,” said Bob, I’ve met old Yellow-Eyes 
once, and I may again, and if I do old Bess will 
have something different to say to him. I’m go- 
ing to make him work for our pigs, at any rate.” 

The work seemed mainly on Bob’s side. He 
knew no more about panthers than his father 
had told him. In other words, he knew nothing 
at all of their real habits, except that they had 
an appetite for pigs. The beast had had its fright, 
and hunted with redoubled caution. At the end 
of the week it had killed two more young pigs, 
and the alarmed drove deserted the great cane- 
brake for the upland. But the first day on the 
new feeding-ground saw another murder, and 
back went the pigs into the canes again, so dis- 
tracted that they could not be driven home at all. 

‘‘ What did I tell you? ” said Mr. Leach. “ He’s 


6 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


got three of ’em already. We might just as well 
say good-by to the rest.” 

When Bob came home one day and reported 
that he had found the remains of a fourth vic- 
tim, his father was almost triumphant. He 
seemed to have acquired a kind of pride in the 
relentless cunning of the animal. 

When he finishes me he’ll move on to Sim- 
mons’s,” he said, rubbing his hands. He’s a 
smart one, as Eben Simmons’ll find out pretty 
soon.” 

Still Bob would not give up. He toiled through 
the brake and the oak-crowned uplands, and lay 
in wait for hours at a time near the deer-paths. 
He learned that migrating warblers travel in 
bands ; that many birds never went into the cane, 
although they lived happily at its edge; that the 
cat-squirrels play games among themselves ; that 
what little movement there is at noon is mainly 
confined to the ground-haunters. 

These and many other interesting things the 
boy learned, but they were apart from his mission. 

That would have seemed to have no place in 
the drowsy, orderly region if it had not been for 
the few red-smirched bones and the beans which 


YELLOW- EYES 7 

Mr. Leach dropped into a tumbler as a record 
of their losses. 

It was like hunting a ghost. Bob gradually 
relaxed his vigilance and wandered farther away 
from the drove to secure some of the small game 
on which the family depended. 

One afternoon, as he was returning from a 
longer trip than usual, he saw smoke hanging 
over the brake in the direction of his house. He 
stood in the edge of the woods he had just left, 
wondering whether it would be wise to take the 
usual short cut through the canes. The smoke 
was drifting toward him, but it was not heavy 
or wide-spread, and concluding to risk it, he 
began to jog along one of the numerous narrow 
hog-paths that threaded the dry swamp. 

He had seen fires there before, and knew their 
violence, even in moister seasons than this. In 
his judgment, however, he had time to make the 
two miles across the brake before the confla- 
gration was well started, but he had underesti- 
mated the force and direction of the wind. His 
error was soon apparent. When he mounted 
one of the little bare island-like mounds scattered 
through the brake and looked out over the split. 


8 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


yellowed tops of the canes, he saw, leaning 
toward him, a long curtain of smoke whose base 
was pierced and reddened by up-darting flames. 

As he watched it a young girl came into the 
small opening by the same path he had travelled. 
It was Nancy Simmons, barefooted and bare- 
headed, and carrying a little package of freshly 
dug roots. 

“ Hello, Bob ! she said, and joined him on 
the mound. My ! ” she added. It looks big, 
doesn’t it? ” 

Bob regarded her gravely. Her presence com- 
plicated matters. 

It is big ! ” he said, irritably. “ What in the 
world are you way out here for. Nan? ” 

She looked up at him with her clear blue eyes, 
and smiled. 

“ Oh, to get some roots for pap’s ague,” she 
said. ** How are we going to get home? ” 

Frowning, Bob considered the situation, while 
Nancy, fearless and interested, watched the ad- 
vance of the red-stained smoke. 

‘‘ I reckon we’d better go to the pond and let 
it pass,” said Bob presently. “ I can carry you 
to the island.” 


YELLOW -EYES 


9 


Nancy tossed her brown head. 

‘‘ I can wade as well as you,” she said. The 
water’s mighty low. Come on ! ” 

A few minutes of rapid running brought them 
to the pond. The water was very low, as Nancy 
had said, and in only one or two spots reached 
as high as their knees. But if it was low, it was 
wide, and a feeling of security cheered them when 
they stood on the small island, with its half-dozen 
rotting stumps and the single water-oak that 
reared its head high above the canes, a landmark 
for many miles. 

‘‘ Let’s climb the tree,” suggested Nancy. 

Then we can see things.” 

The fire was worth seeing now. From their 
seat on the lowest limb of the oak they com- 
manded the whole scene. The smoke had drifted 
over and beyond them, and underneath it whirled 
gray flakes of ash. The dry canes were burning 
with a roar and a series of explosions, sharp as 
pistol-shots, as the air in their hollow joints be- 
came heated and burst through the thin walls. 

On the east the leaping flames had almost 
reached the shore of the pond, and wheeling in 
a steady advance before the long red line were a 


lO BY REEF AND TRAIL 

number of sparrow-hawks. The fire was beat- 
ing the covert for them, and every frightened 
bird that rose above the canes found itself con- 
fronted by an enemy almost as savage as the 
element from which it sought to escape. 

The nasty things ! ” cried Nancy. Please 
shoot at them, Bob.” 

“ They’re way out of range,” said Bob, laugh- 
ing, and besides, I left old Bess down there 
on the stump.” 

He turned to look toward the west, where 
the flames were as yet more remote. There on 
the shore, his hind quarters still hidden in the 
reeds, stood Yellow-Eyes, his head turned toward 
the fire with an expression of fear and vindic- 
tiveness. The next moment the lean, long crea- 
ture ran into the water, and half-swimming, half- 
wading, struck out for the island. 

Bob was so taken aback that he sat there dumb, 
but with an impulse of protection, he caught 
Nancy by her round arm. 

^'What is it?” she asked, and then breathed 
a frightened Oh ! ” as she saw the wading cat. 

In fascinated silence they watched the animal 
gain the island, where it paused to shake itself 


YELLOW -EYES 


II 


and give an intent, malevolent look at the sweep- 
ing fire. But when it trotted straight for the 
oak, Nancy screamed. 

The panther dropped as if it had been struck 
across the face, and with flattened ears, glared 
upward at the boy and girl. It was so close 
that they could see the subtle change in the rigid 
form as alarm gave way to curiosity, and its 
naturally vicious and irritable nature gained con- 
trol. 

The broad fore paws began to knead the damp 
ground stealthily, the eyes widened and the flat- 
tened, snake-like look disappeared in a kind of 
expanding movement of the whole body. It 
feared human beings, but these young tree- 
dwellers did not seem to have all the awesome 
characteristics of men, and hemmed in by fire, 
the panther was in the mood to resent their 
presence. 

Catlike, it hated to lie exposed on the bare 
island. All its instincts impelled it to seek the 
cover of the oak. 

The still figures in the tree did not seem so 
very formidable, but they had the daunting 
human odor, and that was a check in itself. 


12 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


It took a few gliding steps forward and glanced 
irresolutely about, its mind unsettled by the noise 
and fearful splendor of the fire. The flames 
had reached the lower part of the eastern shore, 
rolling like a wave through the brake, and toss- 
ing up a yellow spray as hundreds of blazing 
canes exploded. On the west the fire was com- 
ing rapidly. The growth was heavier there and 
the flames so fierce that the panther winced as 
it looked and glided nearer the oak. But at the 
moment it seemed about to spring, the old black 
boar and three sows of the scattered drove 
crashed through the canes and dashed headlong 
into the water. 

They made a clumsy and grunting progress. 
At last they landed, the boar in the lead. He 
stamped upon the firm ground, flirted his ridicu- 
lous tail, and trotted forward; but suddenly he 
halted, and his little nervous white eyes grew 
fixed. He grunted hoarsely. 

The panther had swung about and crouched 
upon the ground, head down. His hard yellow 
eyes gave the boar look for look, and a deep 
humming came from his throat. 

O Bob!’^ said Nancy, more frightened at 



THE BOAR BLEW ONE CHALLENGING BLAST, AND CHARGED. 





YELLOW -EYES 


the thought of a fight than at the possibility of 
an attack upon herself. “ Can’t you stop them? ” 
Why ? I hope the old boar will fix that 
beast.” But Bob’s tone was not optimistic. 

The boar seemed for the first time to feel no 
fear of Yellow-Eyes. He blew into the hot, 
smoke-tainted air one challenging blast, and 
charged. His big, slab-sided body shot over the 
ground, and as the panther half-rose to meet 
it, the wedge-shaped head made a powerful up- 
ward and outward thrust that brought a squall 
from the cat. For a moment the two were 
locked, the panther wrapped about the boar’s 
head, its claws rasping among the dense black 
bristles. Then it shot upward suddenly, its tail 
crooked. It fell upon its feet, but the black boar 
was upon it again with squeals of rage and the 
stained tushes slashed again and again. 

He’s got him ! ” cried Bob. 

But Nan hid her face in her hands. 

With the vitality of its kind, the panther fought 
for its life, but neither teeth nor claws made 
serious impression upon the leathery hide of its 
opponent. There is no more wicked or danger- 
ous fighter in the animal world than an enraged 


i6 


BV REEF AND TRAIL 


boar. Frothing with fury and quick as the big 
cat itself, the pig thrust and slashed with such 
force and rapidity that the panther had no chance 
to turn. Soon its squalls died away, and it was 
tossed and flung about, a limp and harmless body. 
Nancy, glad that it was over, peeped through her 
fingers. 

‘‘ My pap said your pap said we wouldn’t 
raise pigs round here,” said she ; ‘‘ but I reckon 
we can raise pretty good ones, don’t you. Bob? ” 

“Old Blackey is all right,” said Bob. “I 
wish he’d found his courage before, though. 
Look at him now! He’s so proud he’s telling 
the sows they needn’t worry a mite about the 
fire.” 

The big boar with nape bristling and savage 
eyes was standing guard over the others, abjectly 
prone in the mud. Now that his pluck was up 
he seemed ready, as Bob had said, to fight the 
fire which was a red ring around the small lake. 
With such light inflammable material to feed on, 
however, it was passing rapidly. For a few 
minutes Nancy and Bob were almost suffocated 
by the heat and smoke. Then the circle of flames 
went roaring on and the wind cleared the air. 


YELLOW -EYES 


17 

Instead of the tawny, swaying sea of reeds 
there was a still, black unfamiliar field with 
plumes of smoke rising here and there, and vivid 
red spots to mark where the thickest ranks had 
fallen. Across this sooty surface ran irreg- 
ular, scar-like lines — old cattle and deer paths. 
Though obstructed in places by hot ashes and 
embers. Bob saw that he could pick his way 
along the widest without much difficulty. 

‘‘ Come on. Nan,” he said. We’d better be 
going home. Your pa’ll be scared ’bout your 
being caught by the fire.” 

Nancy did not like to be treated as if she 
were a little girl — especially by Bob. 

I reckon pa knows I can take care of my- 
self,” she declared, with a toss of her brown 
head. I ain’t in a hurry.” 

She settled herself more comfortably on the 
branch, locked her bare toes together and gazed 
blandly at Bob. Approached with proper respect, 
Nancy was a most obliging young person, but 
her dignity was curiously sensitive. It seemed 
to be growing more so every day. Perfectly 
innocently Bob found himself offending it con- 
stantly ; but he had learned that innocence would 


l8 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

not be accepted as an excuse. Sometimes it com- 
plicated matters still more. 

‘‘ Please come/’ he coaxed. May be you ain’t 
in a hurry, but I am. Just think what I’ve got 
to tell ! Why, we can raise pigs now all right ! ” 

The bland, grown-up look left Nancy’s face. 
Since Bob put it on that ground, of course she 
was willing to leave the very luxurious seat in 
this interesting water-oak and descend to the 
commonplace exertion of going home. She drew 
her braid over her shoulder, inspected the curl- 
ing tip of it with suspicion, and finding as many 
hairs there as usual she bit it thoughtfully. 

Well, I ’spose I might as well,” she con- 
ceded, with an air of reluctant generosity. The 
pigs are going.” 

Refusing to take Bob’s hand she descended 
lightly to the ground. Together they approached 
the big cat and studied its stiffening muscles and 
fixed, snarling mouth with awesome interest. 

Ugh ! ” said Nancy, turning away with a 
shudder. “ How glad I’d feel if I was a pig. 
A real pig, I mean.” 

Bob was smitten with a sudden doubt. 

I think pa’ll be kind of sorry,” he said. 


YELLOW -EYES 


19 


‘‘ Seems like he’d got proud of putting beans in 
the tumbler. He’d just naturally made up his 
mind that Yellow-Eyes was going to get all our 
pigs and your pap’s too.” 


CHAPTER II 


A CHANGE OF HORIZON 

Mr. Leach was not half so much impressed 
by the news of the panther’s death as might 
have been expected. In fact his father was, as 
Bob had intimated to Susan, apparently some- 
what disappointed by it. 

“ It’s lucky for Simmons’ pigs, that’s all I can 
say,” he remarked. ‘‘ He’d have had ’em sure 
if old Blackie hadn’t up and killed him. As for 
myself it don’t make any difference.” 

Mrs. Leach put down her flat-iron and looked 
at him with round eyes. 

“ Doesn’t make any difference, pa ! ” she re- 
peated. Why, what a thing to say. Of course 
it does.” 

Mr. Leach smiled and poured himself a large 
mug of steaming coffee. ‘‘ Get me a couple of 
lumps of sugar from the pantry, Saphronia,” he 
requested. ‘‘ And don’t finger ’em too much.” 


20 


A CHANGE OF HORIZON 


21 


There was something in his manner that spoke 
of mystery, and the family waited impatiently 
while the sugar was slowly dropped in the cup 
and the sweetened beverage shaken by a careful 
circular motion of Mr. Leach’s hand. Then, 
having taken a long, invigorating sip, he poised 
himself firmly on his stockinged feet and smiled 
again. 

No, ma,” he said. “ It makes no difference 
because I’ve disposed of this place and all that 
pertains to it, lock, stock and barrel, to young 
Archie Winans and his wife. Raising pigs is 
a low business and I’m done with it. That’s 
all there is to do in this part of the world, so 
I made up my mind we’d pack up and move 
out to the coast where there’s more opportunities 
for a man like myself. It’s time Bob was learn- 
ing to do things, too.” 

On the whole, after the first feeling of sur- 
prise had worn off, it did not seem such a bad 
plan after all. Raising pigs was not, as Mr. 
Leach had said, a very high order of business, 
and the family were all convinced that the head 
of the house needed only the opportunity to 
become a millionaire. It is true that so far he 


22 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


had not stuck to one thing for any length of 
time; but that of course was owing to the fact 
that it was not the right thing. On the coast 
where there were thriving towns and an annual 
army of wealthy winter tourists, something really 
worth doing would surely turn up. 

Bob and the twins found the preparations very 
interesting. It was a little hard to say good-by 
to the white leghorns and old Gabriel, the gob- 
bler, and his flock, but the hens and turkeys were 
not at all sentimental over it. It was almost 
worse to leave the other things — the pecan trees 
and live-oaks, the big azalea bushes and all the 
silent companions of their romps and games for 
seven long years. The place was home after all, 
even if pigs had paid for it. 

There were not many children of their age in 
the neighborhood. Houses were very few and 
far apart. Saphronia and Maria played mostly 
by themselves and often got very tired of each 
other. A small colored boy named Jeff some- 
times joined them secretly, and then the twins 
had a delightful time; but they made him play 
such laborious parts in their games that he always 
had to take a rest of several days afterward. 


A CHANGE OF HORIZON 23 

Besides, he was much afraid of Mr. Leach, and 
would scamper off the moment he saw .him. 
Except Nancy there was really no one whom 
the children felt that they would miss. 

The day came at last when they were actually 
to begin their journey. Everything had been 
sold except a few household necessities, and 
Alice and Holly. Alice was a diminutive mule 
with a nose as white as frost and a sleepy eye 
that belied her temper. She was a little vixen 
when anyone asked her to do any work, and 
regularly every Sunday on the way to church 
she either ran away or balked. 

Holly was a red steer not much larger than 
Alice. He was broken to harness and would pull 
very well when the ground was soft. On a hard, 
oyster-shell road he kept looking round to see 
why his feet made such a noise and then staring 
over his shoulder at his driver as if to ask him 
to do something about it. Because of this em- 
barrassing habit he was never driven to church, 
but was used for plowing and farm work in 
general. 

Early on the eventful day Bob hitched Alice 
and Holly to the two-wheeled cart, which was 


24 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


already laden with the few household things left 
from the sale. Mrs. Leach and the twins climbed 
in and perched themselves recklessly on top of 
the swollen bags, and Clipper took his customary 
place under the tail of the cart. 

“ Get up, Alice ! ” commanded Mr. Leach, with 
a flick of his long rattan. 

Good-by, good-by ! ” screamed the twins. 
“Good-by, Jeff!” added Maria, whose sharp 
eyes had detected a familiar little figure lurking 
behind the sour orange trees on the outskirts 
of the place. 

Bob’s throat swelled strangely. The house 
where he had had so many happy times already 
looked so deserted. Its windows, from which 
the white curtains and the rows of potted gera- 
niums had been removed, seemed to watch them 
depart with an air of pathos. But Bob was young 
and the little feeling of regret passed in a moment 
as he turned to follow the creaking cart wherein 
the twins sat jubilant. 

Ahead lay the fascinating unknown, the thresh- 
old of the land lapped by that wonderful great 
ocean of which he had heard so much. There 
would be birds and beasts and fish there he had 


A CHANGE OF HORIZON 2 $ 

never met. His father would find something bet- 
ter to do there than raising pigs. Bob, himself, 
would become a fisherman and live on the wide, 
blue water. He was firmly resolved on that. 

At the first turn in the road Nancy popped 
out from among the pines, bare-legged as usual 
and swinging her sunbonnet in her hand. 

‘‘ Howdy! ” she said, as she joined Bob at the 
rear of the cart. “ Thought I’d walk a piece with 
you-all.” 

‘‘Wouldn’t you like to ride?” called Mrs. 
Leach. “ There’s plenty of room up here.” 

Nancy shook her head. 

“ No’m, thank you,” she replied. “ I’d rather 
walk.” 

She and Bob trudged along in the sandy loam 
for some minutes in silence. Presently he felt 
a warm little hand touch his, which stiffened in 
embarrassment. Nevertheless after some flutter- 
ing the small fingers found a shy resting place 
at last, and Bob’s thoughts of the sea faded away. 
Poor, little Nancy! She had so few friends that 
it seemed mean to desert her. 

“ Pa says it’s a right mean place where you’re 
going,” observed Nancy suddenly. 


26 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


Away went Bob’s pity in a moment. 

It isn’t either,” he retorted indignantly. ‘‘ It’s 
a much nicer place than this. There’s lots and 
lots of people there, and the ocean’s there too.” 

“ So pa said.” Nancy’s tone was calm, even 
commiserating. “ He says it’s all damp and 
windy and ’most everyone gets drowned, and it 
smells like Salter’s old fish-boat on Bass pond.” 

It was just like a girl to be sorry for you 
when you considered yourself very fortunate. 
Bob withdrew his hand coldly and pretended to 
be interested in a buzzard which was sweeping 
over the pines. 

‘‘ Don’t be cross,” said Nancy. “ I hope you 
won’t get drowned at any rate. Now I’ve got 
to go. Good-by everybody.” 

There was no hint of regret in her calm voice, 
and, smiling, she stood and waved her faded sun- 
bonnet vigorously; but Bob suddenly felt sorry 
for her again and ashamed of his irritation. 

‘‘ Hope you’ll come out, too, Nancy,” he 
shouted back. 

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a 
flash of impertinent red tongue. However, he 
had not committed himself very deeply, and he 


A CHANGE OF HORIZON 


27 


consoled himself with the thought that he would 
have extended such an invitation to all those he 
had left behind except, perhaps, humble little Jeff. 

They had passed the last house and were now 
fairly in the woods that stretched clear to the 
coast unenlivened by a single village. The growth 
as a rule was not heavy. The long-needled pines 
stood far apart and rose twenty or thirty feet 
before a branch sprang from their straight trunks. 
In between them the sandy soil was only half 
hidden by the coarse grass and the big fans of 
the palmetto scrub, whose roots ran sprawling 
across the trail like huge red worms. 

Here and there were dense clumps of trees knit 
together with vines. They were called “ hum- 
mocks ” and were almost impenetrable except to 
wild animals and the half- wild hogs. Bob 
thought they looked like splendid places for game, 
and when the little cavalcade halted at noon, he 
tucked old Bess under his arm and set out to 
explore the nearest one. 

It was not a favorable time to hunt and Bob 
saw nothing but a robin and a pair of mocking- 
birds singing in a magnolia. He listened to them 
a few minutes and then went back and joined 


28 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


the family at their dinner of cold roast yams, 
hard boiled eggs and coffee. Alice and Holly 
dined frugally on the coarse grass and made less 
objection than usual when Mr. Leach harnessed 
them to the cart again. This hot, waterless 
country had no fascinations for them. 

In the afternoon Bob took a ride now and then 
to rest his tired legs, and sometimes his mother 
dismounted from the jolting, creaking cart and 
walked a little way with him. On one of these 
occasions Alice, instead of being grateful for the 
lightened load, threw back her ears viciously and 
refused to move another step. 

Mr. Leach tried persuasion and then a mod- 
erate form of violence, but Alice stood with her 
eyes closed and her four legs rigid as steel. 

‘‘ It’s no use,” said Mr. Leach despondently. 

We might as well make up our minds to sit here 
until Alice gets over it. Argument is wasted on 
her.” 

The twins got down from the .cart and they 
all sat in the small disk of shade cast by one of 
the tall pines and stared crossly at the obdurate 
Alice. It was very hot and not a breath of air 
was stirring. The heat reflected from the parched 


A CHANGE OF HORIZON 


29 


ground made a quivering haze through which a 
neighboring hummock looked like a stretch of 
solid dull green wall. It was a little island of 
dense verdure among the widely scattered pines 
and it spoke of heavy shade and moisture for 
such clumps usually spring up only around wet 
ground. 

As Alice looked good for a prolonged fit of 
balking, Bob picked up old Bess and whistled to 
Clipper, who was panting noisily under the cart. 

“ I reckon I’ll run over there and see if I can’t 
get a cat squirrel,” he remarked. 

‘‘ Don’t be gone long,” said his mother. ‘‘ You 
know if Alice starts we shall have to humor 
her and go too. You might not be able to find 
us.” 

“ Oh, I can pick up this trail all right,” said 
Bob confidently. Come on, Clip.” 

Just then a rifle cracked sharply and the still 
air rang with the sudden baying of hounds. Two 
horsemen came dashing round the corner of the 
hummock in a glitter of sand dust, and the one 
in the lead fired again. It seemed as if he had 
aimed directly at them, and Mr. Leach jumped 
to his feet with unusual animation for him, while 


30 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

Bob, puzzled and flushing, raised the muzzle of 
old Bess. 

There was a fleeting glimpse of several dogs 
running silently toward them through the pal- 
metto scrub, and then the cause of it all appeared 
in the form of a lank red lynx. The creature 
leaped into the road directly in front of the team 
and, confused by this unexpected encounter, 
halted irresolutely with its ears laid back and 
long fangs exposed in a spitting snarl. 

Mrs. Leach and the twins screamed. Spunky 
little Clipper rushed to the attack, but old Bess 
forestalled him. The lynx was so near that Bob 
needed only a hasty sight along the brown barrels, 
and a quick touch on the trigger sent the charge 
of bird shot, compact as a ball, into the lank red 
side just over the heart. 

The heavy report was still ringing in the air 
when half a dozen black-and-tan hounds burst 
into the road and threw themselves, yapping and 
growling, on the twitching lynx. Clipper sprang 
at the pack, quite beside himself at the increased 
number of his supposed enemies. The hunts- 
men dashed up with a great crackle and snap- 
ping of breaking palmetto fans. Their shouts to 





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A CHANGE OF HORIZON 33 

the hounds added to the confusion, which reached 
its climax when, with a bawl and a bray. Holly 
and Alice suddenly bolted down the road, just 
grazing the heap of dogs struggling in the sand. 

Whoa, there! Whoa! ” shouted Mr. Leach. 
Darting from behind the pine tree he started in 
pursuit of the runaways. 

Come here, Clipper ! ” bawled Bob. The 
safety of his pet terrier was more important than 
anything else to him. He was going to throw 
himself into the middle of the bunch, but one 
of the horsemen brusquely ordered him to stand 
back. 

“ Don’t you mix in there, sonny,” he said. 
“ You let me talk to ’em.” 

He swung a black bull-whip round his head 
and brought the long lash down among the dogs 
with a tremendous crack. One of them leaped 
up as if he had been shot and whirled round to 
lick a raw, bleeding spot on his haunch as big 
as a twenty-five cent piece. 

Down came the lash again and at its loud re- 
port and the ki-yis of its victim the fighting group 
melted apart and scattered in every direction, 
leaving little Clipper, dusty and trampled, but 


34 by reef and trail 

still defiant, on the ground he had endeavored 
to defend. 

That's the kind of talk they listen to,” grinned 
the man. “ You got the cat, didn’t you, son. 
Laid him out with your scatter-gun as neat as 
a pea.” 

“ Won’t you please help my husband stop our 
team?” interposed Mrs. Leach, half-tearfully. 
‘‘If anything should happen to it I don’t know 
what we should do.” 

The horseman looked at her, then at his com- 
panion. 

“ Blame if I didn’t forget the team trying to 
save the pup,” he laughed. “ But that don’t let 
you off. Where’re your manners. Bill ? ” 

“ Forgot ’em, I reckon,” said Bill tersely. 
“ Same as you forgot the team, Ed.” 

“Oh,” cried Mrs. Leach, “do please hurry!” 

“ Sure we’ll hurry, ma’am,” said Ed. “ Won’t 
we. Bill?” 

“ Sure.” Bill gathered up the reins and spit 
swiftly into the road. “ But a good pup’s always 
worth saving, ma’am.” 

They clapped their spurs to the little saw-grass 


A CHANGE OF HORIZON 35 

horses and were off at the same wild, reckless 
pace they used in hunting. 

Did you ever see such menl ” exclaimed Mrs. 
Leach. 

Bob, however, could not quite agree with the 
implied condemnation. Anyone who could appre- 
ciate Clipper at first sight must have a bit that 
was good in him. He tied a string to the terrier’s 
collar and clutched the other end firmly. 

“ It won’t take those horses long to catch Alice 
and Holly,” he said. “ Let’s follow them, mama.” 

On their way they picked up Mr. Leach, who 
was resting in a patch of shade. He was dusty 
and hot and out of breath, and his spirits had 
sunk to a low ebb. 

“ This is a mighty poor beginning,” he said 
despondently. '' I’m not superstitious, as you 
know, ma, but this looks like a bad omen to 
me. Perhaps we’d have done better to stay at 
home and go on raising pigs.” 

Mrs. Leach denied this cheerfully. 

‘‘ Alice has often run away, pa, so it can’t mean 
anything special. I only hope they haven’t 
smashed the cart.” 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


36 

I expect to find it in pieces — small pieces,” 
said Mr. Leach gloomily. 

Nothing so deplorable happened, however. 
Alice and Holly had kept to the rough road and 
had not even spilled one of the bags. They were 
a panting and repentant pair, and did not need 
the restraining hands of Bill and Ed who stood 
guard over them until Mrs. Leach and the twins 
perched themselves once more upon the luggage. 

‘‘ You folks aiming to get to the coast ? ” asked 
Ed, as the cart began its dismal creaking. 

Mr. Leach briskly replied in the affirmative. 
The fortunate termination of the incident had 
quite restored his courage. 

Ed looked at him pityingly. 

“ ’Tain’t my business, of course,” he said, “ but 
I don’t see how any sensible man can do it. 
There’s too much water there, ain’t there. Bill ? ” 

One side of it’s all water,” said Bill dismally. 

By gum. Bill’s right ! ” exclaimed Ed. ‘‘ What 
can you do in a one-sided place like that ? ” 

“Want to sell the pup, son?” asked Bill 
abruptly. 

Bob clutched the string tightly and shook his 
head. 


A CHANGE OF HORIZON 37 

‘‘Well, so long then,” said Bill, turning his 
pony into the scrub. 

“ So long,” said Ed, following his companion's 
manoeuvres. “ Wish you-all were going to a bet- 
ter place than the coast.” 

Mr. Leach looked back at them with a smile 
that broadened as they loped farther and farther 
away. 

“ Well, there’s one thing about the coast that 
suits me,” he remarked. “ Bill and Ed won’t be 
there.” 

Late that afternoon the Leaches camped on the 
shore of a long, narrow lake. Their tent was 
composed of four sheets and the cart, under which 
was spread a thick layer of Spanish moss, as soft 
and elastic as the best mattress. While Mr. 
Leach was arranging these simple accommoda- 
tions and the twins were gathering wood for the 
evening fire. Bud shouldered old Bess again and 
set out after some fresh meat for supper. 

This time the hour and the place were both 
propitious. Sunset was not far off and the lake 
looked “ ducky.” Its shallow waters were fringed 
with reeds, irregular beds of which lay strung 
along the shore. The channels between these 


38 BV REEF AND TRAIL 

small islets were thick with water bonnets and 
fleshy lily stalks, over which shining-winged in- 
sects played. 

Bob rolled his trousers high above his knees 
and stepped out quietly from the shadows of the 
live-oaks. A tattler jumped from the oozy shore 
with a startled note, his long, yellow legs dan- 
gling, and offered a tempting target ; but Bob was 
after bigger game. 

Crouching and wading gently through the tepid, 
shallow water, he bore down upon the nearest of 
the little islets. This was nothing but a bed 
of reeds springing from a rise in the bottom of 
the lake. The crisp, green blades just covered 
his head and shoulders as he forced his way 
through them, but though hidden, he had to be 
doubly careful now, for it was almost impossible 
to make a noiseless passage. In fact, he had 
taken only a few steps into the reeds when a 
teal rose ahead of him with a vibrating whirr 
of wings, and set the whole marsh humming. 

Beyond the islet a great flock of mud-hens 
roared up from the water, and hung for a mo- 
ment like a vast black blanket before they 
streamed away up wind. Bunches of blue-epau- 


A CHANGE OF HORIZON 39 

letted teal skimmed swiftly above the reeds, and 
Bob could hear the heavy quacking of mallards 
and the lighter notes of pin-tail ducks as they 
rose, alarmed, from their favorite feeding places. 

Half-doubled up, he waited tensely for a chance 
shot. The air seemed full of bullet-like bodies 
and the thin whistling sound of rapid wings, but 
nothing came within range. Flock after flock 
settled back upon the water ; the quacking became 
spasmodic and finally ceased altogether. A 
brooding calm fell upon the lake, and the big 
dragon-flies flashed and quivered in the rosy 
light. With a grunt of disappointment Bob 
slowly straightened his cramped back and legs. 

Flying straight at him just above the tops of 
the reeds was a bunch of a dozen mallards led 
by a drake whose head glowed like a huge 
emerald. The surprise was mutual. The big 
leader threw up his wings to arrest his flight. 
The others crowded upon him with frantic flap- 
pings, and for a brief second the flock was massed 
together in confusion. 

That second gave Bob the opportunity to 
steady himself, and as the ball of ducks started 
to ascend he levelled old Bess at the white collar 


40 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


of the leader. Even before he pulled the trigger 
he felt that sudden joyous thrill that foreruns 
success. Through the spurt of the smoke he saw 
the big drake crumple in mid-air, and shifting 
his aim he sent a second charge of shot rattling 
into the thick of the bunch. 

Three wilted mallards crashed into the reeds, 
while the rest of the frightened flock scattered 
in every direction. Ducks and mud-hens rose 
from all quarters of the marsh. A pair of fat 
pin-tails scooted by within easy range, but Bob 
resisted the temptation manfully. Ammunition 
was expensive and he had ducks enough for the 
family’s supper. He retrieved the dead birds, 
and binding their legs together with a strip of 
tough marsh grass, returned to the camp under 
the live-oaks. 

Everybody was tired, and at an early hour 
they crept under the improvised tent and stretched 
themselves on the heaped-up moss. Soon Bob 
knew from the deepened sounds of breathing that 
he alone was awake. In spite of his weariness 
he did not feel sleepy. The soft night sounds 
fascinated him. The lake played among the reeds 
along its rim as it had not done before sunset, 


A CHANGE OF HORIZON 4 1 

and the grove of live-oaks was full of gentle 
stirrings as if something had set the long beards 
of moss wagging on the branches. Now and then 
a mallard quacked raucously, or the peevish note 
of the rails sounded across the water. 

Bob was sinking into slumber when he heard 
Holly snort and stamp uneasily. Something was 
moving in the little open space round the tent. 
There were stealthy footsteps and an odd puffing 
sound that seemed vaguely familiar to Bob, but 
did not reassure him. 

He was, to tell the truth, a little frightened. 
Old Bess lay close beside him, and the feel of her 
long, cold barrels was wonderfully comforting. 
Yet even with the gun in his hands it required 
some effort to draw aside the flimsy sheet and 
look out into the pale moonlight. 

Three black, bulky shapes loomed up close 
to the tent. In the distorting light they looked 
as big as steers, and for a moment Bob was 
puzzled. Then one of them lifted its low-hung 
head and pointing its snout at the tent, uttered 
an explosive woof.” 

Hogs ! ” exclaimed Bob. Sic ’em, Clipper ! ” 

Clipper squirmed under the side of the tent 


42 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


and launched himself upon the hogs with a men- 
acing bark. They vanished like magic, and after 
the terrier had returned from his dash Bob could 
still hear them crashing through the dry vegeta- 
tion. He felt ashamed of himself for his lack 
of courage. 

“ Next time I reckon I’ll know what it is before 
I get afraid,” he confided to Clipper. He stretched 
himself, pleasantly on the soft moss. The reso- 
lution made him feel suddenly comfortable, and 
with his hand on Clipper’s rough neck he fell 
asleep. 


CHAPTER III 


PERSONAL ENCOUNTER 

It was five o’clock the next afternoon when 
the travellers sighted the coast town of Ordville 
through the thinning pines. They had been on 
the road since dawn, but tired as they were, the 
glimpse of the friendly white houses and the 
caress of the sea breeze so invigorated them that 
they were all full of curiosity and delight im- 
mediately. Even Holly and Alice shared their 
pleasure, for the brutes seemed to realize that 
they had reached the end of their journey. They 
quickened their steps and emerged from the spicy 
shade of the woods on to a hot white road of 
crushed shell without the least objection on the 
part of the usually fussy steer. 

Just ahead the road crossed a bridge of planks 
laid above a little stagnant stream. It did not 
seem as if any self-respecting fish would care 
for such thick, weed-choked water, but three 
43 


44 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


young anglers, pole in hand, were sitting side by 
side on the jutting ends of the planks, so much 
absorbed in their work that they hardly glanced 
at the travellers. 

Bob, however, stared at them with all his eyes. 
Boys of his age were not common in the tiny, 
scattered settlement by the cane-brakes, and this 
liberal forestallment of the pleasures of town life 
struck him as most promising. He lingered be- 
hind as the cart rumbled across the bridge, can- 
didly studying these possible playmates. 

One was red-headed and lean, the opposite in 
every way from the tow-haired, good-natured 
looking boy who sat at his elbow. The third 
bore the stamp of his light-hearted, shiftless race 
in his sooty skin and loose lips. 

‘‘ Whatcher doing? ” asked Bob, addressing the 
motionless backs. 

‘‘ Fishing,’' responded the red - headed boy 
gruffly. 

“ Catch any fish ? ” said Bob, with genial in- 
terest. 

“ Naw.” 

Get any bites ? ” 

‘‘ Naw.” 


PERSONAL ENCOUNTER 


45 


Bob glanced along the plank ends swiftly. 

‘‘ Got any bait ? ” 

‘‘ Naw.’’ 

“ Then whatcher doing? he queried again. 

“ Fishing.’’ 

The red-headed boy closed his lips firmly to 
intimate that the discussion was ended. The other 
two had not moved so much as an eyelash, their 
whole beings concentrated in the rigid attention 
with which they gazed upon the water. Evidently 
a boy was no novelty to them. Bob was baffled 
and irritated. Suddenly the red-headed boy 
glanced over his shoulder. 

“ What’s the pup worth? ” he asked in a sneer- 
ing tone. 

Bob’s eyes flashed. 

He’s worth more than you could rake and 
scrape together, I reckon,” he retorted. 

‘‘ Is that so ! ” The red-headed boy leisurely 
put his hand in his pocket and drew forth a pecul- 
iarly dingy cent. “Well, here’s his price right 
here, only I don’t want to buy him.” 

He restored the penny to his pocket, and 
winked at his companions, a wink so full of 
insolent meaning that it made Bob’s hands clench. 


46 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


Ordinarily he was a peaceable boy, but there was 
something about the red-headed youth that filled 
his soul with anger. It seemed to him that he 
was face to face with a crisis, and that his future, 
position in the town would depend largely on the 
way in which he stood up to this impudent fellow. 

You think you’re smart, don’t you? ” he said. 

For less ’n a cent I’d push you into that mud- 
hole.” 

This was being rather more violent than the 
occasion seemed to warrant, but Bob felt instinc- 
tively that the red-headed boy was a bully, and 
that sooner or later they must come to blows if 
both were to live in the same town. 

Bully or not, the boy was no coward. He 
promptly laid his rod upon the bridge and leaped 
to his feet. His arms — they looked surprisingly 
long — began to revolve in a scientifically threat- 
ening fashion, and he danced a sort of jig-step 
that rapidly carried him down upon Bob. 

This was more interesting than fishing. The 
two disciples dropped their rods and gathered 
behind their champion in joyous expectation. At 
first glance the odds seemed all in favor of the 
red-haired boy, whose reach and height and ex- 


PERSONAL ENCOUNTER 


47 


perience were plainly greater than his opponent’s, 
but Bob had not worked hard in the open all his 
life for nothing. His reward was there in the 
firmly-knit, broad-shouldered figure, the muscles 
of which were beginning to show a hint of the 
unusual power they were to have later on. 

“ Yah ! ” cried the red-headed boy. “ Cracker ! 
You’ll push me, will you! Yah!” He danced 
before Bob with an expression of deepening con- 
tempt as he noted the other’s unskilful position. 
One of his revolving fists suddenly shot out and 
landed with a smack on Bob’s cheek just below 
his eye. 

The sting of the blow was all that was needed 
to drive Bob to action. If he was not a boxer 
like the red-headed youth, he was something more 
dangerous when fully roused, a natural fighter. 
Blindly oblivious of the jabs and swings that 
rained on his face and head he closed upon his 
opponent, both sturdy arms working like piston 
rods. 

The red-headed boy was used to fighting and 
never had he fought better, but none of his blows 
seemed to count. Punches that would have made 
an ordinary boy weaken only served to nerve 


48 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

Bob’s arms. The red-headed one felt daunted. 
Such fierceness and ability to assimilate punish- 
ment was unfamiliar to him. It was like fighting 
a wild animal. And an animal that could give 
as well as take punishment. His body was sore 
with the battering and his breathing grew pain- 
ful. He gave ground, but Bob bored in like a 
little demon, dealing his short-arm blows with 
undiminished fury. 

Panic seized the red-headed boy. He retreated 
rapidly, trying only to defend himself. The two 
on-lookers suddenly raised a warning cry, but 
Bob, at least, did not hear it. Putting all his 
body into the blow he planted his fist on his 
opponent’s chest, and saw him topple over and 
vanish. There was a rousing smack and a muddy 
geyser of water leaped up almost into his face. 
He had knocked the red-headed boy off the edge 
of the bridge. 

All Bob’s anger left him in a minute. He 
threw himself on the planks, and when the red- 
headed boy’s dripping head and shoulders ap- 
peared he clutched him by the collar. 

‘‘ Catch a hold of here, you two snipes ! ” he 
ordered peremptorily. 


PERSONAL ENCOUNTER 49 

Very meekly the fat youth and the darkey 
precipitated themselves upon their stomachs and 
seized their fallen champion. The water was 
shallow and stagnant, and it was not very diffi- 
cult to pull the red-headed boy from its depths 
to terra firma. He was as black as a horn-pout 
with mud, but otherwise undamaged. 

“ Had enough? ” asked Bob mildly. 

What! ” said the red-headed boy. 

“ Want to fight some more? We can go down 
the road a piece.” 

The red-headed boy turned a pair of pale, 
startled eyes upon Bob, and shook his head 
weakly. 

‘‘ Sure? ” asked Bob. 

Yes, I’m sure.” His tone was shrill with 
conviction. He had never felt so certain of any- 
thing in his life. 

Golly, I don’t blame you,” exploded the fat 
boy. He stared at Bob with fervor. Say, he 
can fight some, can’t he, Rufus ? ” 

The small darkey uttered an unctuous clicking 
sound. 

Hm’m ! Same’s one o’ these yere raid lynx 
cats. Reg’lar bim-bam, don’t care anythin’ ’bout 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


So 

nothin’ fighters, dey is. Punched Hal Skillets 
right offen de bridge and pulled him on agin and 
wanted to punch him offen agin. Hm’m! ” 

“ Shet your mouth,” growled the dripping Skil- 
lets. 

Rufus shut his mouth with a kind of liquid 
smack more irritating than words. Plainly Skil- 
lets’s downfall was not a depressing incident to 
his friends. There was an awkward pause, 
broken by a shout from Mr. Leach far down 
the road. 

That’s my pa,” explained Bob. His telltale 
bruises suddenly felt as big as saucers. Look 
here,” he added to the red-headed boy, “ were 
you fellows really fishing?” 

The red-headed boy grunted an affirmative. 

And you had some bait? ” 

Skillets pulled a mustard box from his coat 
pocket and tilted it so that Bob could see its 
writhing contents. 

And did you catch anything? ” 

“ Only a couple o’ little cats, and we chucked 
’em back,” growled Skillets. 

‘‘ Oh, all right,” smiled Bob. ‘‘ If you’d said 


PERSONAL ENCOUNTER 51 

SO right off there wouldn’t have been any fight. 
So long, fellows.” 

He ran down the road to face the parental eye 
and take the lecture he knew would be forth- 
coming. 

“I’m ashamed of you,” said Mr. Leach sor- 
rowfully, at the close of his rebuke. “I don’t 
know where you get that temper. Not from me, 
I’m sure. It must come from your mother’s fam- 
ily. I can distinctly remember how violent her 
father was on a certain occasion.” 

The twins whimpered when they saw Bob’s 
swollen nose and discolored cheek, and his 
mother looked upon him sadly. Altogether he 
felt that he had cast a shadow upon the threshold 
of their new home, but though penitent, he could 
not help believing that the fight would have its 
redeeming consequences. 

The next day brought some proof of this. The 
Leaches had spent the night in a vacant ware- 
house to the north of the three long, low brick 
stores that formed the nucleus of the little town. 
Holly and Alice were temporarily pastured in 
the plot in front of the building, and could be 


52 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

seen from either end of the short main street 
as they browsed somewhat scornfully on the 
brown grass. The good-natured friend of Hal 
Skillets was leaning on the fence watching them 
as Bob emerged after breakfast, but it was evi- 
dently Bob and not the animals in whom the 
stranger’s real interest lay. 

‘‘ Hullo,” he said. ‘‘ Pritchard told me you-all 
are going to live here.” 

Pritchard was the town grocer and owner of 
the warehouse. 

Not right here,” replied Bob. But we 
reckon to get a house in this place.” 

That’s great,” said the boy. ‘‘ My name’s 
Jim Murray. I live round the corner on Hybiscus 
street.” 

“ Mine’s Bob Leach,” said Bob, advancing to 
the fence. ‘‘ Going fishing again ? ” 

Young Murray had a tapering cane rod and a 
squat, covered tin pail in his hand. 

You bet,” he said. Real fishing, too. 
Pritchard says the sea-trout have struck in, and 
he pays two cents a pound, undressed. Want to 
come ? ” 

Nothing could have pleased Bob more, but he 


PERSONAL ENCOUNTER 53 

had no rod and he was not sure that he could 
get the necessary permission from his family. In 
the unsettled state of their affairs it was quite 
possible there would be some tedious errands to 
do. 

This isn’t play fishing, it’s business,” said 
the sage Murray. “ You go and ask ’em and 
I’ll skip round to my house for more tackle. Two 
cents a pound, remember.” 

Whether it was this consideration that influ- 
enced his father, or the fact that there happened 
to be no errands to do, Bob departed happily 
from the warehouse and joined Jim who had 
brought an extra rod and line. 

“ I reckon I’ve got bait enough for both of 
us,” he said. “ Any way we haven’t time to catch 
more.” 

He raised the cover of the tin pail and dis- 
played a mass of silvery little fish in a very meagre 
amount of water. 

Gudgeons,” he explained briefly. '' Sea-trout 
like ’em better than anything else. Fiddlers for 
sheepshead, gudgeons for trout, and mullet for 
the bigger ones; that’s what I use.” 

Bob was duly impressed. Fishing seemed 


54 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


almost as noble a sport as gunning, and he yearned 
to master its lore. 

I’m mighty glad I saw you,” he said ear- 
nestly. 

Oh, I came round on purpose,” said Jim. 
“ Say, you’re the only fellow that ever licked 
Hal Skillets. Golly, but it was great to see you 
do it. He won’t dare to be so low down mean 
now, I reckon.” 

They turned into an avenue of mule-gnawed 
palms at the end of which was a long, ramshackle 
building with double galleries and a huge sign 
over the door bearing the words: Coast Hotel. 
It was the first hotel Bob had ever seen, but he 
gave it only a brief glance. Just beyond it lay 
the thing he had dreamed of so often of late, 
the great wide sea. 

To be sure it was not so remarkably wide 
at this point, for a long outlying reef or bar 
a few miles from shore opposed its rounded, man- 
grove-crested bulk to the direct assault of the 
ocean. But even the lagoon looked to Bob a 
vast body of water, and beyond the bar an im- 
measurable blue expanse led his wondering gaze 
to the dim mystery of the horizon. 


PERSONAL ENCOUNTER $5 

“ It’s fine ! ” he exclaimed, pushing back his 
straw hat. 

“ What, this hotel? ” said Jim. ‘‘ Well, it isn’t 
so fine as it looks. There isn’t anyone in it except 
Colonel Webber and the cook and slews of rats. 
Nobody comes now ’cause the food is so poor, 
and the Colonel gets full nearly every night. 
When there were boarders here I couldn’t fish 
off the pier, so I’m just as well pleased.” 

The Coast Hotel stood close to the edge of the 
lagoon. A little path led from the rear gallery 
to the pier, a very narrow, wobbly structure that 
staggered on rickety legs nearly a quarter of a 
mile out from the shore. Bob wondered at its 
boldness, for it seemed as if a fair buffet from 
some youthful wave or a good puff of wind would 
strew it in fragments on the water. To his in- 
lander’s eye it looked shockingly unsafe and the 
lagoon uncompromisingly deep, but where Jim 
could go he certainly could follow. So follow 
he did, his nervousness increasing with every step 
away from firm land. 

On the very tip, which swayed unpleasantly 
in sympathy with the ceaseless motion of the 
water, was an open- fronted shed protecting a 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


56 

bench for such anglers as objected to the glare 
of the sun. Contact with many pairs of trousers 
had given this bench a dark polish, and busy jack- 
knives had decorated it profusely with initials and 
nautical symbols. These were repeated on the 
walls of the shed with fascinating additions in 
the way of fishes large and small, and records 
of notable catches. Altogether it breathed a very 
history of the sport, and even Jim, familiar as 
he was with it, showed himself impressed by its 
atmosphere. 

I tell you, this old shed has seen a lot,” he 
observed, uncoiling his line. “ Some time when 
I catch a big one I’m going to put his measure- 
ments on the wall with the rest of ’em. Don’t 
you hope it’ll be to-day ? ” 

Bob hoped so decidedly, but he had small con- 
fidence in his own ability to catch anything. His 
line seemed unmanageably long, and the water 
very far away. Under Jim’s supervision he im- 
paled a slippery gudgeon on the hook, and swung 
the wriggling, flashing thing out into the twist- 
ing pattern of the current. 

“Let it sink,” advised Jim. “And jerk it so 
— see? Sea-trout like live bait and swift water. 


PERSONAL ENCOUNTER 57 

The channel turns in here and runs almost under 
us. Then she swings out just below and keeps 
’way off shore for miles. Don’t you see her? 
Kind of like a dark band and all wrinkly on top. 
You have to know the channels in this shoal 
water; but you can always tell ’em by their 
color.” 

Bob listened greedily. His eyes were naturally 
keen, and he soon distinguished the deeper blue 
of the channel where it wound in long graceful 
curves between the flats. The gentle swaying of 
the pier no longer troubled him. Indeed it began 
to cause him a certain exhilaration, and made 
him feel in rhythm with the soft play of wind 
and water. He drew a deep breath of satisfac- 
tion, his rod lying neglected across his knees. 

Close to the pier he suddenly observed a flock 
of scaups led by a vanguard of black-headed, 
gray-backed drakes. Evidently they had been 
feeding in-shore, and were now bound out to 
rest and doze on the broad bosom of the lagoon. 
Though he and Jim were in plain sight, the 
flock paddled fearlessly forward without swerv- 
ing. As they passed the end of the pier Bob 
could have reached them with his fishing line, yet 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


58 

only a few saucy yellow eyes deigned to notice 
him. They were wild ducks, certainly. In all 
his experience such behavior was new to Bob. 

Golly! Wish I had a gun here,” he could 
not help exclaiming. 

You’d find yourself arrested right soon,” 
chuckled Jim. “ It’s against the law to fire a 
gun within a mile of the courthouse, and the 
ducks know it. You can drop salt on their 
tails here, but wait till they get a little way out. 
You can’t reach ’em with a rifle then. Ducks are 
wise sure. Hi I ” 

There was a sudden boil in the water. A 
series of rings spread away from Jim’s line which 
straightened with such force that the rod bent 
in a fine curve. 

Pull your line out of the way,” said Jim, 
tensely, and struck as he spoke. 

Such a fish as Bob had never seen in the petty 
inland waters shot from the blue channel into 
the sunlight. Its long, lustrous body flashed with 
a pearly light, and it shook bright beads of spray 
from its polished sides as it curved downward 
and smote the surface in a violent effort to dis- 
lodge the hook. 


PERSONAL ENCOUNTER 


59 


‘‘ What is it? ” he cried. “ A shark? ” 

Shark nothing/' grunted Jim. It’s a trout. 
A big one, too.” 

“ What’s he doing now? Where’s he gone? ” 
asked Bob excitedly, watching Jim’s mysterious 
manipulation of the rod. 

‘‘ He’s making out for deeper water. They 
always do,” said Jim. “ Steady now, old feller. 
Don’t you be in a hurry. Hi, he’s going to jump 
again.” 

The stiff line had fallen limp. There was a 
second of uncertainty, then up the big trout shot 
with a suddenness that made Bob start. The 
instant he struck he bounced high again, and 
this he repeated four times, so quickly that the 
froth that marked the first point of contact was 
still dancing when the final leap was over, and the 
frightened fish dove deep into the racing water 
of the channel. 

“ I reckon he’s hooked good and plenty,” ex- 
claimed Jim jubilantly. “That’s what you get 
by giving ’em time to suck the bait down. Now 
you’d have struck quick and only got a lip hold.” 

Bob thought it more than probable. He did 
not resent Jim’s superior tone. He was too glad 


6o 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


to pick up such useful bits of information to 
care about anything of that sort. There was 
no conceit in him, but always an earnest desire 
to master the work that he found interesting, and 
a complete self-effacement at such times that made 
him a most acceptable pupil. 

'' You sure did the right thing,’' he said ad- 
miringly. I don’t see how you handle him like 
you do.” 

Oh, I’ve had lots of practice,” said Jim, 
squaring his shoulders. “ Look at him now ! 
Making off like a railroad train. Watch me 
slow him up.” 

The great trout was not visible but the stiff 
line ripping through the water betrayed his frantic 
rush. Jim pressed his thumb on the spinning 
reel, and lowered the butt of the rod. Slowly 
the strain began to tell. The line moved less 
swiftly, and finally swung rigidly back and forth 
while the water bubbled in a wide circle about it. 

It was the beginning of the end. The big fish 
was still sullen, but with reel and rod Jim drew 
him inexorably toward the pier. 

“ Gee ! ” he said, as the dark back rose more 
and more above the surface. He’s a monster, 



(( 




RAISED HIM, DRIPPING, TO THE STRING-PIECE 




PERSONAL ENCOUNTER 63 

Bob. Don’t know as I blame you for calling 
him a shark.” 

Seized with a generous impulse he held out 
the rod. 

‘‘ Want to feel the heft of him? Catch hold; 
he’s safe now.” 

Thrilling with pleasure Bob grasped the rod, 
and with awkward hands imitated Jim’s manoeu- 
vres. For one delicious moment the captive 
awoke as the shadow of the pier fell on him and 
gave Bob the semblance of a fight. Then he lay 
inert with his long back exposed. Very carefully 
the two pairs of hands raised him, dripping, to 
the string-piece, and then Jim uncorked his en- 
thusiasm with a wild whoop. 

Didn’t I tell you I’d do it some day ! ” he 
said. 

He pulled out a worn tape-measure from his 
pocket and carefully measured the length and 
girth of the great trout. These, with the date 
of the capture and his own initials, he cut deeply 
into a blank space on the shed wall. 

I wonder if I’ll ever do that,” remarked 
Bob. 

Well, you never can tell about fishing,” said 


64 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


Jim. You’ve got to keep at it, that’s one sure 
thing.” 

Noon came, hot and breathless, but no more 
fish. The boys reluctantly wound up their lines 
and Jim emptied the pail of gudgeons. 

“ It’s a little early yet,” he said. ‘‘ When the 
schools really do strike in you’ll have some luck, 
if you’ll stick to it.” 

“ I’ll stick all right,” said Bob simply. 


CHAPTER IV 


A SEA STEED 

Under Jim’s tutelage Bob soon became a suc- 
cessful angler. He was more persevering than 
his teacher, his judgment was sounder, and his 
love of nature unusually sympathetic. As the 
schools of trout, crevale, and sheepshead grew 
more and more plentiful in the lagoon, his rod 
brought an increasing supply of dimes and quar- 
ters, for though Pritchard was soon satisfied, 
Mr. Brown, the wholesale fish dealer, was always 
ready to buy any amount. 

Mr. Leach had obtained a satisfactory position 
at the fibre factory, and Mrs. Leach found plenty 
of laundry work at good prices. Things looked 
so promising that the family moved from the 
warehouse into a bungalow at the northern end 
of the town; a place bright with roses and well 
shaded. Its front sloped to a narrow beach and 
65 


66 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


a little pier ran out to the channel. As yet they 
had no boat to complete their comfort, but Bob 
laid by every week a certain per cent of his 
earnings toward the purchase of one. 

In the meantime, as often as the weather per- 
mitted, he cruised about the lagoon in Jim’s skiff, 
a leaky affair with a much-patched sail. It was 
a good enough craft for a landlubber to begin 
with. She was broad and heavy, and, if the wind 
were not too violent, as safe as a small boat could 
be. One person could easily handle her. Her 
light draft enabled her to go anyway, and when 
she did run aground on some high shoal, it was 
no trouble for the boys to push her off. 

It was a new and fascinating life to Bob. He 
took to the water as if all his ancestors had 
been sea captains. He explored every nook and 
inlet for miles along the shore and learned the 
channels so well that he could run them on the 
darkest night. But it was, in a way, tame sail- 
ing, and as his confidence grew he longed to 
try the outer waters, where the lonely reefs and 
bars lay. 

For such enterprises Jim was the best com- 
panion in the world. He could swim like a South 


A SEA STEED 


67 

Sea Islander, sail a boat with his eyes shut, and 
knew by actual experience the conditions of tide 
and current about many of the reefs. 

I tell you what we’ll do,” he said to Bob ; 
‘‘ we’ll go turtling on Loggerhead Cay. They’re 
laying now and we can make a haul. What we 
don’t want we can sell dead easy.” 

Bob jumped at the suggestion. He had never 
seen one of the great turtles. He knew that once 
a year they came in from the far seas, a silent, 
armor-clad fleet, to lay their leathery eggs in 
the hot sand of the cays. To go turtle egging 
added an unexpected joy to the exploration of 
new waters. 

‘‘ When shall we start ? ” he asked. 

“ What’s the matter with this afternoon ? ” said 
Jim. It’s about a two-hour sail. We can take 
our supper along. There’ll be a good moon, and 
night’s the best time to find the turtles laying. 
I’ll bring a rope. If we catch one we can stake 
it down and get Capt. Simons to go over for it 
with us the next day.” 

That suits me,” said Bob quickly. I’ll go 
home now and get a snack put up. Might bring 
old Bess along if you say so.” 


68 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


“ Sure,” replied Jim, who had no gun. I’ll 
meet you at the pier at five.” 

There was a steady westerly wind blowing, 
which suited their purpose perfectly. The Mud- 
hen, as Jim’s skiff was named, made good time 
across the lagoon, and rounding the bar, breasted 
gayly the bluer water outside. Though nicer 
sailing was required here, Jim’s memory was 
good, and they threaded the rather tortuous chan- 
nel to the cay without mishap, eating their supper 
before they landed on the strip of sand. 

Jim had brought a couple of pointed sticks 
whose purpose he now explained. 

“ Wherever the sand looks soft or broken you 
poke your stick in,” he said ; “ you’ll know all 
right, one way or another, if there’s eggs there. 
You’ll feel ’em, or you’ll see the point all thick 
and gummy with yellow yolk. Here, one of these 
pails is for you. Now we’ll cross to the other 
side. That’s where they land.” 

It was a soft yet brilliant Southern night. The 
far stars seemed to hang clear of the heavens like 
a penetrable veil of radiant dust. The swell of 
the great, orange-colored moon could be plainly 
seen, with some of those hazy veins which scien- 


A SEA STEED 69 

tists say are frost-cracks in her cold surface. 
Every dune and bit of wreckage on the broad 
bar stood out distinctly in her light, and a clump 
of frowsy-headed palms cast sharp-edged shadows 
on the sand. Those of the two boys walking 
along the hard-packed beach below high-water 
mark hobnobbed in front of them like two giant 
spectres. 

‘‘ Now,” said Jim at last, here’s where we 
split; you go north and I’ll go south. We’ll 
cover the ground in that way in less time. When 
you reach your end of the bar, come back and 
wait for me here.” 

He stood a few moments watching Bob’s 
progress, then picked up his pail and stake and 
started toward the shelf of the beach. His round 
face was no longer smiling. There was a terrier- 
like concentration in its expression and in the 
forward thrust of his head, and as he zigzagged 
swiftly over the stretch of loose sand his move- 
ments had much of the nervous deftness of that 
gamy little animal. 

As he trotted back and forth his stick tapped 
the sand like a blind man’s staff. It had made 
perhaps a hundred little pecks, when presently 


70 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


he checked, and lowering the stick as delicately 
as if pricking a blister, drew it up and inspected 
the tip. It was gummy and glistening, and would 
have offended most people’s noses. 

“0-ho!” he chuckled. “That’s pretty quick 
work.” 

With deft, hollowed hands he uncovered the 
leathery eggs. In the moonlight they looked like 
fat milk pearls ; one hundred and twenty-five of 
them in two layers, with a wadding of sand be- 
tween. The clutch just filled Jim’s pail and he 
set it well above high-water mark, and resumed 
his quartering. 

He had no more luck, however, and reached 
the southern end of the cay with his hopes for 
a fine haul completely dashed. 

“ I reckon I started out too well,” he thought. 
“ Good beginnings don’t mean good endings 
always.” 

The night was warm and windless, and he 
was sweating profusely under his loose shirt. 
With a sigh of resignation he threw himself 
down on the sand, his face toward the sea. There 
had been little wind for several days, and the 
sea hardly stirred in its sleep. Now and then 


A SEA STEED 7 1 

its bosom lifted in a slow breath that sent a swell 
rolling in, to die upon the beach with a draw, 
out sigh. A film of stale, iridescent oil seemed 
to blanket the water thinly, flickering and pass- 
ing from green to saffron and from saffron to 
rose as the tranquil heaving presented new sur- 
faces to the moonlight. 

Right in the midst of this subdued glitter and 
close in shore something black and wedge-shaped 
presently appeared. It came without a ripple, 
like a sudden rise of a water-logged timber. 
Then Jim saw it sink in the same stealthy fashion, 
as if it had withdrawn to weigh its estimate of 
the prospect in secret. Only a few moments 
elapsed, however, before it reappeared nearer 
shore. 

Jim lay as motionless as the sand itself, and 
the turtle, after a long and wary inspection of 
the beach, swished through the shallow water 
and began to ascend the slope. 

It was laborious work for the huge creature, 
but at last it gained the shelf of the beach and 
looked round with blear and weary eyes for a 
suitable nesting site. Then it saw Jim rising 
from the sand, and shrank inward into its shell 


72 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

in quivering apprehension. A long dismal hiss 
escaped from its horny blowholes. 

Hello, old camel! ” mocked Jim. ‘‘ I’m right 
glad I was in when you called.” Then he rapped 
the shaking head smartly with his stick, and his 
voice broke to a threatening soprano. You 
squat still now till I stake you down. I don’t 
want to lose you. I’m mighty fond of you — 
well done.” 

He uncoiled the braided rawhide wound round 
his waist, and began to knot it about one of the 
big, musky hind flippers. The loggerhead’s baggy 
throat pulsed. Its round, hard eyes gleamed 
with an indignation it could not express vocally, 
for the great turtles are mute. It spun suddenly 
on its broad breastplate, almost knocking Jim off 
his feet, and with a powerful forward hunch 
started for the sea. 

Jim dropped sitting upon the beach, his heels 
jammed into the sand, and both hands clutching 
the rawhide, one end of which was still tied about 
his body. His weight crippled the flipper to which 
he was fast, but the loggerhead seemed quite 
satisfied with what remained. Without any ap- 



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THE LOGGERHEAD PLUNGED INTO THE WATER 



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A SEA STEED 75 

parent increase of effort she dragged the boy 
steadily down the slope. 

Bob, O, Bob! ” bawled Jim. ‘‘ Come quick! 
Fve got one ! ” 

Pshaw ! he muttered, letting go with one 
hand and groping in his pocket. Bob canh hear 
me way off here, I reckon.” 

He took out his knife and opened it. The 
turtle was already at the lip of the sea, but Jim 
hated to cut. Economy was inborn among his 
people, and it hurt him to lose so much good 
meat. It was not yet too late for Bob to be of 
service if he should arrive upon the scene. 

No Bob came, however, and the loggerhead 
plunged into the water with a joyous splashing. 
Jim drew the knife quickly across the line. The 
next instant he dropped it with a cry of pain 
as the brine struck bitterly into a gash in his 
finger. Clutching and tearing uselessly at the 
sand, he was jerked into the water, down, down, 
down, a crisp singing in his ears and cold fingers 
prying at his lips. By one of fate’s malicious 
pranks the knife had somehow turned in his hand, 
and when he struck, it was the back of the blade 
that met the line! 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


76 

At this part of the coast the sea lies warm 
and shoal above a great apron of submerged 
land fully half a mile wide. The loggerhead had 
hardly begun its dive when it reached bottom. 
Its flippers struck violently, and sent up a boil- 
ing cloud of sand. Confused and winded by the 
violence of its fright, it turned and slanted up- 
ward to the surface, where it lay puffing like 
a naphtha-launch, its limp flippers swinging with 
the sway of the water. A few seconds later 
Jim’s streaming yellow head bobbed up close 
behind it. 

The boy had the line tightly clutched in his 
hands, and hardly waiting to take the necessary 
breath, he pulled himself forward with a strong, 
quick pull. The fore part of the loggerhead sank 
instantly; but before she had gathered her trail- 
ing flippers under her, Jim was on her back, all 
ten fingers hooked about the thick front edge of 
the shell. 

The loggerhead, for obvious reasons, has no 
enemy but man, and this particular loggerhead 
had led a long and pottering existence of un- 
broken peace. To say that she was frightened 
would do scant justice to her state of mind. 


A SEA STEED 77 

Down she went with a rush that tore white 
streaks through the water, but this time she did 
not strike the sand. She turned as she neared 
the bottom and skimmed along just above it. 
Her powerful flippers, working with a propeller- 
like motion, drove her along like the wind. 

As she went she turned on her side, glancing 
this way and that like a scaling stone; but Jim 
clung to the broad carapace with the tenacity of 
a barnacle. He knew that if he were trailed 
again at the end of the rawhide he would soon 
drown. Three generations of coast dwellers had 
left him a legacy of pluck and coolness that made 
a man of him, and a strong one, in times of 
danger. Young as he was, Jim had been in peril 
before, but never had things looked so bad. 
Something cold and tense seemed to knot within 
his head. He must, if it were possible, draw up 
his knees to the centre of the shell and fashion 
his body into a sort of drag or breakwater. It 
was a trick which some of the “ reefers ” de- 
clared would invariably force a turtle to come 
to the surface. 

It had sounded easy; but in the pens, if one 
failed, one had only to let go and come up with 




BY REEF AND TRAIL 


78 

no worse penalty than a derisive laugh from 
one^s companions. It is different when one tries 
it out at sea, when life itself may be the price 
of a slip. 

Something, however, must be done. Although 
in reality Jim had been below the surface but 
a few seconds, the force with which he was swept 
through the water and the efforts of the logger- 
head to unseat him made it extremely difficult 
to hold his breath. A pair of iron hands seemed 
to press with terrible force against his lower ribs. 
His lungs shook like foul and sodden sponges 
within him. His legs, always hitching forward, 
were straightened again and again by the pressure 
of the water. 

But Jim was almost as much at home in the 
sea as a fish, and at last, favored by a momentary 
slackening of the loggerhead’s speed, his knees 
caught under him, and he straightened his body 
as much as the length of his arms permitted. 

Either the trick succeeded or the turtle was 
again winded, for almost immediately she began 
a slow and grudging rise. Jim had enough spirit 
left in him to grin a tight-lipped, dimpled grin. 
Owing to the backward tilt of hiS;l)ody, he could 


A SEA STEED 


79 


see the cheerful shimmer of moonlight on the 
surface. It danced like mercury, grew brighter 
and more dispersed. 

Then his head shattered the silver film, and he 
shot the stale air from his lungs in a gulp that 
seemed to pull them into his throat. 

“ Um-n ! ” he panted. ‘‘ I reckon we were 
right close to being late for that appointment.” 

The loggerhead, its dome just awash, moved 
seaward with a sudden accession of dignity. It 
was apparent that she did not intend to exert 
herself in any fancy diving until she was sure 
of deep water. 

Jim glanced back over his shoulder, and the cab- 
bage-palms seemed to him to have dwindled to the 
dimensions of hat pins stuck in a sand cushion. 
A lively and picturesque little wake of phosphor- 
escence suggested that they might look even 
smaller in time. 

Clinging to the shell with one hand, Jim picked 
at the knot with the other, but the swollen raw- 
hide resisted his wet fingers. A sudden boyish 
outbreak of rage at his impotence swept over him, 
and he struck the loggerhead savagely on the 
head. The blwwfe aimed without intention, did 


8o 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


more than skin Jim’s knuckles, for the creature 
swerved confusedly until its course lay parallel 
to the beach. 

Jim’s temper passed as quickly as it had come. 
Another blow might undo the good he had gained. 
As long as they held their present course he 
was within swimming distance of the shore. 

His face, pale from fatigue and the cold moon- 
light, set precociously. He had nothing with 
which to cut the line nor could he use both hands 
at the knot and keep his seat. He turned his hot 
gaze downward. What if he gouged out those 
blear eyes with his thumb or tore open the baggy 
throat ! 

Something desperate Jim was prepared to do. 
He leaned forward, his face drawn like a weasel’s, 
when suddenly the inspiration came. He caught 
up the line, and thrusting it under the sullen 
beak, rasped it viciously back and forth. 

‘‘Bite, you mossback!” he snarled, reckless 
of the danger his fingehs ran. 

The loggerhead did bite, with a quick venom- 
ousness that was uncanny. A gush of fat bubbles 
gurgled up, and the keen, horny jaws sliced 
through the rope as if it were kelp. The next 


A SEA STEED gl 

moment the turtle dived and Jim unprepared, 
found himself gasping, but alone in the water. 

He fell into the stroke, the long side-stroke he 
could maintain for an hour at a time, laying his 
course by the prim palms. He heard a faint 

Halloo ! ” from Bob, returning down the beach, 
and grinned abstractedly. 

It never occurred to him to ask for assistance. 
Such a swim was mere play in his two-piece cos- 
tume, but a mischievous wish to frighten Bob 
made him lift his voice in a tremulous : 

Coo-ee!” 

He shook the water from his ears and listened 
for the answer. 

“ Halloo ! ” It came faintly. Where are 
you?” 

“ Out here ! In the water-r ! ” . 

A black blot was visible against the pallid gleam 
of the sand. It moved forward and was merged 
suddenly with the dark water. Was Bob, who 
couldn’t swim a stroke, foing to risk his life 
for him? Alarmed at the possible results of his 
foolishness Jim shot forward like a scared fish. 

I’m all right ! ” he shouted. ‘‘ Stay where 
you are.” 


82 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


He made the water boil as he swam, and soon 
his feet touched sand and he stood up and waved 
his arms. There was Bob, yards out from the 
beach, half wading, half floundering toward him. 

Go back, you chump,” said Jim. I could 
swim home from here if I wanted to.” 

You sure scared me,” said Bob, up to his 
waist in the water. What have you been up 
to, anyway?” 

He was full of wonder and admiration when 
Jim explained. 

Golly, but that must have been fierce,” he 
said. “ You’ve got grit.” 

Jim laughed. 

Why, a thing like that’s nothing to me. It’s 
you tjiat’s got grit, trying to come out^to me 
when you can’t swim a stroke. It reminds me 
of the way you put your head down and butted 
into Hal Skillets. Have any luck ? ” 

Bob had found two nests. His coat, tied to- 
gether by the four corners, was fat with eggs. 
With the two full pails they had, Jim declared, 
a decent mess ; enough to pay them for the trip. 

I reckon we might as well hike back to the 
skiff and go home,” he said. “ But I just would 


A SEA STEED 83 

like to pick up an old mossback on the way. I 
hate to be licked.” 

They saw nothing on the return walk, how- 
ever, and, having packed the eggs safely in the 
bow, they spread the sail to the light breeze and 
began the long beat home. 

Once a school of porpoises rushed across their 
bows, disturbing the silence with their loud puff- 
ing, and the swishing of agitated water, and one 
lonely drum-fish hugged their wake for a mile 
or more uttering his melancholy, booming grunt 
at regular intervals. It was a tedious trip. Both 
boys were tired and half asleep when they saw 
the pier stretching out its friendly length to them. 
They tied the painter to a bolt in the string piece 
and stumbled wearily to land. 

It was the kind of weariness, however, that 
was very pleasant to Bob, at least. Every fresh 
experience in this new world tucked away in his 
retentive mind a bit of knowledge that seemed 
worth any amount of fatigue. 


CHAPTER V 


THE SILVER KING 

“ Fd give fifty dollars down for a hundred and 
seventy-five pounder, in good condition ! ” de- 
clared the host of the Anglers’ Anchorage. 

“ Poof ! I’d give five hundred ! ” laughed the 
New Yorker, who owned several electric roads 
and was a director in one or two banks. 

On your own hook and line, sir,” amended the 
host, suavely. 

‘‘ Of course. On my own hook.” 

The Bostonian dropped a bead of oil on the axle 
of a dismembered reel, and delicately smeared it 
over the steel with his finger-tip. 

I had a good one on yesterday, but — ” 

The New Yorker and the man who favored an 
eight-ounce rod exchanged the glance of cynical 
brotherhood. 

‘‘We know that one,” they said, wearily. 
“ The one that might have been ! ” 


THE SILVER KING 


85 

But my reel was gummy and the line parted,” 
continued the Bostonian, with characteristic calm. 
“ I think he weighed at least one hundred and 
thirty. One of the Salem Kents caught a hundred 
and ninety pounder last season. But that hap- 
pened at Tampico.” 

“ There’s no doubt that Mexican fish run heav- 
ier,” said the man who always felt a desire to 
apologize for the Bostonian. But these are big 
and gamy enough for me — when I get one. 
Three days without a bite ! ” 

“ It’s a little early,” reassured the host. ‘‘ The 
main body hasn’t struck in yet. When they do 
there’ll be fishing.” 

The Bostonian, tenderly assembling the oiled 
bits of steel, smiled coldly. 

Yet you offered fifty dollars for a hundred 
and seventy-five pounder a minute ago.” 

‘‘ Sure. And I expect to pay the money,” said 
the host. If I had time, I’d go out and win the 
reward myself. I want a nice fish for the hall 
mantelpiece, that’s all.” 

As he bustled indoors, the New Yorker and the 
man with the eight-ounce rod exchanged another 
glance of understanding. 


86 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


His fifty is safe,” said the New Yorker. 

“ Wish I could feel as sure about my little pile,” 
said the other. ‘‘ This place is too far up. Only 
the light scouts will ever get here. Wish I hadn’t 
exchanged old camps for new.” 

Here were grown men from the North, men of 
reputation in the business world, who took fishing 
with solemnity, and rose with the sun in order to 
spend a full, active day at it. Bob and Jim, 
anglers too, basked in this company, which threw 
an unwonted dignity upon the craft. They had 
both made up their minds that wealth could be 
spent in no better way than was exemplified at the 
Anchorage. That it required exceeding great 
wealth to live in this creation of red tiles, Moorish 
columns and latticed balconies, was beyond a 
doubt. 

The hotel had sprung up before their wondering 
eyes like an Aladdin’s palace. The cellar was 
scooped out in a day by an army of imported 
laborers. Another army ran up the framework 
in an incredibly short time. And every train 
brought more workmen, who swarmed over the 
structure like bees upon honeycomb. It was a 
modern tower of Babel ; a confusion of rappings 


THE SILVER KING 


87 

and tappings and shouting. But when the clouds 
of workers suddenly rose and trooped away they 
left smooth, luxurious order behind them; a 
complete, modern hostelry painted, plastered, 
furnished, electric-lighted, in the midst of newly 
made gardens flashing with fountains. Perhaps 
there was more show to it than durability, but 
Bob and Jim accepted it on its face value. It was 
a marvel and a delight to them and made the rest 
of Ordville look drab and dreary by compar- 
ison. 

Whenever they had a chance they hung about 
the verandah of the Anchorage, absorbing the ex- 
tremely interesting conversations that passed 
between its guests. They were actually sitting on 
the steps when Mr. Simpson, the host, made his 
extraordinary offer. Fifty dollars for a mere 
herring! They exchanged looks that recorded a 
common vow. 

‘‘ But where are we going to get the tackle ! 
mourned Bob. '' I haven’t got anything that will 
hold one as big as that.” 

Neither had Jim. As he was considering the 
problem, the host reappeared and called to him, 
‘‘Here you, Jim! Take Mr. Worthington out. 


88 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


will you? It’s no use waiting for that lazy 
darky,” he added, to the Bostonian. “ Like as 
not he won’t come round, and the boy knows 
where the fish are all right.” 

The man from Boston studied Jim through his 
glasses. The eyes behind them were sharp but 
kindly. Perhaps you’d like to try for that fish 
of Simpson’s,” he suggested. I’ve several extra 
rods, and you may use one.” 

Poor Bob ! He could not help feeling envious 
as he watched the joyous Jim tuck the rod under 
his arm and sally forth. One by one the other 
gentlemen, accompanied by their negro boatmen, 
went down to the landing. No one noticed him 
sitting there on the step. The clear blue of the 
sky and the flashing water mocked at him. 

‘‘ I s’pose it’s because Jim’s more of a kid,” 
he thought. “ They think I’m big enough to go 
out by myself, that’s why ! ” 

It was not much of a consolation. It was none, 
in fact. He sat there trying hard to be manly, 
but seeing the little scattered flotilla of boats 
through a mist. 

Again the host came to the door, and his eye 
rested on the rather forlorn figure. “ Hello, 


THE SILVER KING 89 

young man! ” he said. “ How are you — pretty 
quick on your pins ? ” 

‘‘What, sir?” asked Bob. 

“ Good with your legs ? Can you use ’em ? 
Make ’em move faster than a darky’s? I want 
an errand done at the village, and I want it done 
quick.” 

“ I reckon I’m quick, sir,” said Bob as a plan 
darted into his mind. 

Tough as an Indian from much outdoor work, 
he made the trip to the village and back in less 
than half an hour, surprising Mr. Simpson 
exceedingly. 

“ What, back so quick ! ” he exclaimed. 
“ You’re all right. I’ll have to use you again.” 

He held out a bright quarter, but Bob, flushing, 
put his hands behind his back. 

“ I’d be mighty glad to run errands for you, 
sir,” he said, breathlessly, “ any time, sir. But 
I don’t want money. If you’d let me have — 
if you’d — ” 

“If I’d what?” 

“If you’d lend me an old rod, I’d try to catch 
that tarpon for you.” 

Mr. Simpson slowly pocketed the quarter. 


90 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


** You think fifty dollars in the lagoon are better 
than a quarter in the hand, eh! Well, I don’t 
know.” He eyed the boy meditatively. “ Ever 
used a rod ? ” 

‘‘ Lots of times. I’ve caught sea-trout and 
cavally and king- fish and tarpon too. But they 
were small ones,” Bob added truthfully. 

‘‘ I don’t know,” mused Simpson. “ Well, all 
right. I’ll let you have a rod and fixings if you’ll 
promise to do more errands. A rod costs good 
money.” 

I’ll promise,” said Bob. 

After a man is tired of trout, and has come to 
be a match for the skilful salmon, he is likely, 
if he is a consistent angler, to turn to Southern 
waters for new conquests. There he will find 
among the hordes of strange fish eager to take 
his bait a giant herring, that for weight, agility 
and cunning is the king of all game-fishes, with 
the possible exception of the huge leaping tuna. 
Men who have found salmon-fishing an easy 
sport have had their pride lowered when they 
came to cast a tarpon line in some placid lagoon. 
Here there are no running waters or eddy-encir- 
cled rocks to complicate the battle; nothing but 


THE SILVER KING 


91 

the big fish himself to fight, but the chances are 
that he will beat you. 

Bob had his own logy bateau, a recent purchase, 
and his particular friend and admirer, Rufus, 
who stood ready to do menial labor for him at 
any moment. 

Rufus jumped at the chance to go fishing for 
such game, and fifteen minutes after meeting Bob 
he appeared at the landing with a brand-new rag 
round his perennially sore toe, and the left hind 
foot of a rabbit in his trousers pocket. 

“ She’ll shore bring us luck,” he confided as 
they rowed out upon the pellucid bosom of the la- 
goon. “ She’s de same what Yaller Jack bruck 
de las’ dry spell with.” 

Bob sniffed. He had not much faith in such 
charms, at least, when it came to fishing. He put 
a pop-eyed, slippery, one-pound mullet on the 
hook, and swung it overboard. The velvet 
cluck of the big reel was inspiriting music. He 
had never held such a perfect rod in his hands 
before, and his pulse stirred bravely. 

There was not a ripple on the dead blue sur- 
face. The scattered boats from the hotel lay off 
to the north, as motionless as if glued there. Bob 


92 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


had chosen new ground near a narrow inlet, 
where the tide ran in from the sea in long, pul- 
sating jets, like blood in an artery. 

He had dropped anchor there at slack water, 
but the iridescent film that gathers on the surface 
at such times was now beginning to break up into 
lines and darkening feathers that glided slowly 
toward the head of the lagoon. Soon it was all 
gone. Then the first clean gush of sea-water 
came, lifting the boat a little and letting it sink 
gently as it rolled on. 

With this green water came predatory fish. 
Few of them were visible, but now and then a 
porpoise showed a slice of fat, muddy back, or a 
piratically slanted fin ripped the surface. In the 
lagoon there was plenty of gentle prey. 

When the tarpon came, it was a descent of 
Norsemen. Boring their way up the inlet, their 
bright backs rising and falling, they came in rush- 
ing fleets — eager to be the first on the feeding- 
grounds. They stretched from shore to shore 
of the narrow cut like the metal plates of a steel 
corselet, racing so close to the boat that they cast 
spray into it, but not one noticed the hooked mul- 
let. He was too insignificant all by himself. They 


THE SILVER KING 


93 

wanted a school to charge and devour, worry and 
scatter. In a few minutes they were gone with 
the inflow that had brought them. 

‘‘ We’s too far down!” wailed Rufus, in de- 
spair. “ Dey’s gone up to de boats, and Jim’ll 
catch our fish, sure. Pull up de anchor. Mister 
Bob. Pull him up I ” 

“ Pull up nothing,” said Bob sturdily, although 
he was somewhat pale. He had never seen so 
many of the great fish before. “ I’ve watched 
this place, and if you can’t catch one here, you 
can’t anywhere.” 

He drew in his line and put on a vigorous mul- 
let from the bucket. The “ bait ” scooted here 
and there, feeling the danger. In every way it 
did its best to draw that danger down upon its 
defenceless head; but the sun passed the zenith 
and sank slowly toward the west, and the reel 
hung silent on the rod. 

The fish were not biting,” as the anglers say. 
They were there and at work. Patches of shadow 
and patches of foam mottling the blue of the 
lagoon showed that the mullet and small fry were 
being harried, but no silk line tautened. Anglers 
are patient folk, but they have their superstitions. 


94 by reef and trail 

and one of them is that when fish show a disincli- 
nation to bite they cannot be made to. One after 
another, as the sun sank, they quietly took their 
rods apart and stole back to the landing; all 
but Bob and the Bostonian, who had made it a 
principle to combat all conventional conclusions. 

It was high flood. Six hours had passed. The 
drowsy Rufus came out of his cat-nap suddenly, 
and with an inarticulate exclamation. Something 
had surged in the water close by. The drooping 
line took life and straightened mysteriously. 

But before Bob could strike, the water boiled 
and broke noisily; and a wide dorsal fin cut it 
like a knife. On the hook were the staring head 
and bleeding shoulders of a tarpon, the rest of 
whose body lay in the maw of a thievish shark. 

I reckon we-all better go on home,’' said 
Rufus shudderingly. I doan’ like fishing fo’ 
sharks.” 

Bob put on another mullet and cast it clear of 
the cloudy spot on the water. 

“ This is where we get action,” he said. 
‘‘ Some of ’em are going out hungry.” 

The bait had hardly sunk below the surface be- 
fore the same uncanny upheaval occurred. Again 


THE SILVER KING 


95 

the line crept out and out, stealing away from the 
boat. Then Bob struck, and with a shower of 
drops the line straightened like a steel wire, and 
the rod creaked under the dead weight. It was a 
dead weight only for an instant. After that it was 
so much alive that the rod shrieked high to the 
fierceness of its rush. One hundred feet from 
the boat the tarpon shot out of the water. Up 
he went, his cheeks flaring from the red gills till 
he seemed all enormous head. Still he rose, foot 
on foot of blinding silver, and at the great length 
of him Rufus gasped and pulled the rabbit’s foot 
from his pocket. 

‘‘ Conjure him ! Conjure him ! ” he yelled, and 
shook the little hairy pad at the fish as it curved 
in a high arc and fell back, driving foam to the 
boat. 

Now he rushed steadily and straight for the 
head of the lagoon. The raised tip of the rod put 
its strain upon him, but a tarpon six feet long is 
not to be turned or tired by such tricks. Foot 
after foot of the line spun from the reel. Bob 
had no finger-stalls, and the thin silk ate hot into 
the flesh of the thumb with which he tried to 
brake the line. 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


96 

Two hundred and fifty feet ran out, and the fat- 
ness of the reel was gone before the tarpon 
swung. He came straight for the boat. Bob 
reeled frantically. It would not do to give the 
fish too much slack. There was a dreadful droop 
to the line when the second leap came and the tar- 
pon rose, higher than before, and slatted his 
great head vigorously. When he turned in mid- 
air he bent like a steel bow, and snapped out 
straight again with a jerk that tossed the line 
high. But in the heart of the suds and broken 
water the line stiffened, and Bob knew he had the 
fish well-hooked. Well-hooked is far from being 
safely landed. A tarpon can perform more acro- 
batic feats than almost any other game-fish in the 
sea; and a straight rush, if not stopped in time, 
will inevitably end in a broken line. 

Not once did the tarpon sulk. It was straight 
fighting every minute. With rod and reel and 
bloody fingers Bob fought back, and the hour 
that passed seemed a dozen. He was bathed in 
sweat, and every muscle ached. Even his teeth 
ached under the dogged pressure of his jaws. 
Rufus chewed on his precious rabbit’s foot 
with savage disregard of its value. He might 


THE SILVER KING 97 

have ground it up if the tarpon had not inter- 
vened. 

During the first half of the second hour the fish 
seemed as fresh as ever, but a series of huge 
leaps and their smacking falls tired him. For 
the first time Bob was able to gather in a hundred 
feet of line, the tarpon yielding sullenly to the 
strain. He lay now within a few yards of the 
boat ; dorsal fin out, his six feet of silver gleam- 
ing through the water. 

‘‘ Coax him, Mister Bob ! ” pleaded Rufus, gaff 
in hand. “ Lemme get jus’ one jab at him with 
dis yere pike.” 

Bob touched the reel with numbed fingers, but 
gentle as the pull was, it roused the tarpon to a 
last fury. Out of the suddenly swirling water 
he rose, open-mouthed, and before the boys could 
move he was upon them with an impact that sent 
Rufus and the oars flying, and thrust the gun- 
wale of the boat beneath the surface. It was not 
an attack. The great fish was merely trying to 
free itself and in his blind terror he landed 
squarely in the boat. 

Bob and the tarpon and the broken halves of 
the centre seat thrashed about on the flooded bot- 


98 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


tom. The boy’s length was less than that of the 
fish, but he thrust his hands into the wide gills 
and wound his legs round the slippery body, and 
fought with shut eyes. He was fighting in his 
own element and the tarpon was not. The mus- 
cular body ceased to heave under him ; and when 
the streaming Rufus cautiously appeared at the 
gunwale, the rabbit’s foot protruding from his 
lips, the real struggle was over. 

‘‘ Mm-mm ! ” said Rufus, removing his talis- 
man from his mouth. “ Ain’t he jus’ de nickel- 
plated son-of-a-whale ! Lemme get at him.” 

Very valorous now, he climbed into the boat 
and pike in hand, assaulted the dying tarpon. 

“ Hold on Rufus ! ” expostulated Bob. “ Mr. 
Simpson won’t give a red cent for it if you go 
knocking the scales all off.” 

Mr. Simpson did, however, pay the fifty dollars 
he had offered, and though the handful of crisp 
bills was something never to be forgotten, Bob’s 
keenest pleasure came from the congratulations 
and compliments showered upon him by excited 
anglers. 

The tarpon, stuffed and varnished, was in due 
time hung over the hall fire-place of the fashion- 


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THE SILVER KING 


lOl 


able Anchorage, and under it was placed this in- 
scription : The Silver King. Caught by Robert 
Leach, June 3, 1908. Weight 204 pounds.’' 


CHAPTER VI 

THE GIANT RAY 

In marching order the professor presented a 
complex appearance. A greenish veil hung from 
the rim of his swollen and spotless helmet to his 
shoulders, which were clad in a coat pitted with 
an extraordinary number of pockets. On the 
lower half of his person he wore tweed knicker- 
bockers and cloth puttees with white spats. A 
minnow net and a camp-stool with a pneumatic 
seat were bound upon his back, and in his hands 
he ciarried a sheaf of rods and a repeating 
rifle. 

By his side young Leach, with a bit of shark- 
line round his waist to keep his shirt down and his 
trousers up, and with plenty of tanned skin 
visible, seemed a figure of barbarism, but the con- 
trast was only external. The Boston professor 
and the brown Floridian were pupils at the same 
school, and youth knew at first hand some of the 


102 


THE GIANT RAY 103 

wonderful facts that age had met only in text- 
books. 

The professor was not an angler in the sporting 
sense of the term. Sport for sport’s sake was 
quite beneath his learned notice. He had come to 
the Anchorage to study the marine life of the la- 
goon, and he cared not a whit for the glitter and 
gaiety of the hotel, immersing himself in his 
books of an evening, and sallying forth every 
day immediately after an early breakfast for his 
lonely trips along the shore. 

On several occasions he met Bob, who was on 
his way to the hotel where he was now often em- 
ployed as guide to the tarpon fishers. The tall, 
strong boy whose eye was as keen as a heron’s 
impressed the scientist agreeably, and one day he 
stopped him on the beach and rather abruptly 
offered him three dollars a day for his services. 

Five dollars would not have been enough to 
banish the scorn Bob felt at first sight of the 
green veil and white spats, but when the pro- 
fessor, picking up a shell at their feet, told 
undreamed of wonders about it, he surrendered 
completely. This man was a lover of nature like 
himself, and had the knowledge that Bob longed 


104 by reef and trail 

for. He would have gone with him for noth- 
ing. 

Those were pleasant days. They explored reef 
and shore and pothole, and gave each other of 
their knowledge and learned new lessons together. 
One day they dropped anchor on a shoal between 
two mangrove points, where the yellow glint of 
sand quivered up through the water. It was 
warm there and protected, and many smaller 
species of fish swam busily about in its compara- 
tive quiet. It was good collecting-ground. The 
professor, with eyes snapping behind the green 
veil, dropped a close-meshed seine over the side 
and began to draw it through the water at the end 
of a long bamboo rod. • 

Perhaps the light disturbance of its passage 
was the attraction. At any rate, he had made but 
two or three attempts when a broad under-water 
shadow drew down upon the launch and paused 
below the net, which the professor in his curiosity 
held motionless. 

“ What is that ? ” he asked, and pointed. 

Bob looked over the gunwale with no more than 
idle interest. 

“ What did you see? Where? he said. The 


THE GIANT RAY 105 

shadow stirred at the moment, became more dis- 
tinct and opaque, and the professor gazed down 
with startled eyes at the rising bulk of the most 
repulsive fish he had ever seen. 

‘‘ It’s the devil ! ” exclaimed Bob, stepping back 
from the gunwale. 

The professor had lost his ruddy color. 

''Manta hirostris!” he breathed. He caught 
Bob by the sleeve. ‘‘ What are those big spots ? 
What — they’re eyes ! Look at them ! ” 

The gigantic ray rose until a scant film of 
water protected its back, and peered upward with 
cold eyes set shallow and wide apart. For a 
moment it lay there, undulating like a sail 
in light air; then with a supple folding of its 
huge pancake body, it curved downward and 
became a shadow again, that drifted over the 
wavering yellow bottom and disappeared. 

The professor drew a long and satisfied breath, 
and looked up at the sun, then across the topaz- 
hued water. 

‘‘ Nature is wonderful ! ” he said, gently. We 
must get that fellow.” 

Get the devil-fish ! ” cried Bob. 

Certainly,” said the professor* I’ve seen 


Io6 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

pictures and read descriptions, but — He 
waved the memory of them aside contemptu- 
ously. “ Bob, I never imagined anything like 
that since I was a small boy afraid of the dark. 
Look here.’’ 

He held out his hand, and his fingers danced 
like the prongs of a tuning-fork. 

Um ! You-all are scared,” said Bob appre- 
ciatively. 

Interested, Bob ! Excited ! ” cried the pro- 
fessor. ‘‘ I don’t know whether I’m afraid or 
not. It’s immaterial. A ray twenty feet across! 
I must get that fish, dissect him, know every 
inch of his monstrous body before I do any- 
thing else. Will you help me ? ” 

Bob’s eyes suddenly glowed. 

Sure I’ll help you ! You’re game, all right, 
professor. This shoal would be a heap nicer if 
we beached that old devil somewheres.” 

The ray, apparently so open in its movements, 
proved a difficult quarry. It seemed to have 
none of the activity, the daring impetuosity of 
the game fishes. Bob and the professor, quar- 
tering back and forth across the shoal, with the 
engine down to the quietest notch, saw nothing 


THE GIANT RAY 107 

rise to their mullet and glistening squares of 
pork but an occasional dull sand-shark. Some- 
where, basking placidly upon the bottom, lay 
the devil-fish, and doubtless, with more or less 
regularity, it moved about in the search for food, 
but the occupants of the launch failed to detect 
its presence. 

Day after day went by. The professor’s face 
grew longer behind the green veil. His time 
was limited, and in this paradise for collectors 
there was much that he was neglecting. 

Every slow crane croaking overhead, every 
necklace of drops flung up by a leaping fish, 
every prolific patch of sea vegetation roused im- 
pulses that he had to quell. The devotees of 
science must be dogged. 

** There is so much, so much ! ” sighed the 
professor. “ Bob, boy, I envy you all this. What 
a field to work in ! ” 

Bob yawned. He was lolling in the stern, his 
fingers clutching the cord, on the farther end 
of which a mullet was fastened. It seemed 
such fruitless business. 

We ain’t doing much now, sir,” he said, 
lazily. I reckon that old devil’s gone up No’th; 


Io8 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

just keeping his left fin close to shore, so’s he 
can kind of feel where he is. No trunk to 
carry and no ticket to — to — get ! ” 

He broke off, every flaccid line suddenly stiff- 
ening, and eyed the water close abeam, which 
had grown opaque, as if struck by a slant of 
wind. But there was no wind and the surface 
was glassy. 

Very quietly Bob leaned forward and stopped 
the engine. The dusky patch darkened, grew 
sharp in outline, and then the devil lay awash 
upon the surface, staring at the launch. Its 
huge, wing-like appendages stretched beyond both 
bow and stern. 

Give it to him ! ” said Bob, in a shrill whis- 
per, and rose, harpoon in hand. 

It was impossible to miss so big a mark. The 
lance struck the fleshy back, and sank as if into 
blue mud. The professor, with his feet wide 
apart, rattled out a couple of shots from the 
magazine rifle. 

The ray struck out with one great wing and 
then with the other, lashing the water white and 
throwing spray clear over the launch. Before 
the eddies had smoothed, it was gone. The 


THE GIANT RAY 


109 

next moment it shot up ahead, broad as a sail, 
the harpoon-line streaming behind it. As it hung 
for a second, flapping, the professor fired again. 

Look out for a rush ! ’’ cried Bob, and re- 
versed the engine. 

The ray fell back with a resounding slap, and 
instantly the line leaped over the bow. The 
professor hardly had time to brace himself be- 
fore the shock came. The line snapped taut, 
and the launch, in spite of her reversed engine, 
sprang forward, two sheets of water flaring from 
her depressed nose. 

“ He’ll tear the bow out of her ! ” bawled Bob. 

She won’t stand it, sir.” 

The professor, soaked with flying brine, roared 
back at him: 

“ I’ll buy a new one ! Sit tight there. Bob ! ” 

It was smooth in the shallow cove, and for- 
tunately the great ray did not try to head toward 
the sea. In rough water the launch must have 
filled or capsized in that terrific rush. 

The devil-fish drove straight for the mangrove 
point, as if to hurl himself upon the sedgy flat 
— a half-mile in less than a minute. And then, 
as suddenly as it had bolted, the line fell slack. 


no 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


The launch, half- full of water, steadied to the 
kick of her propeller. Bob stopped the engine, 
and she lay drifting and spent. 

The professor shook himself and peered cau- 
tiously about. 

‘‘ I don’t like this,” he said. “ Where is 
he?” 

“ I’m glad we’re near shore,” said Bob. 

The bottom here was muddy and the water 
opaque. They could not see below the surface. 
The line hung over the bow limp and motion- 
less. A heron rose from the sedge and flapped 
away, trailing its long legs. A drum-fish boomed 
solemnly; but the giant ray gave no sign. 

The professor moved uneasily. 

“ There’s plenty of horse-power left in that 
brute yet. This waiting’s unpleasant.” 

“ Look at the line ! ” said Bob, softly. 

It was moving, almost as if caught by some 
quiet current. It ran out very slowly from the 
bow, then swung to starboard and passed astern, 
lengthening foot by foot. It was so gentle, so 
unlike the former evidences of the huge fish’s 
power, that it chilled the nerves of the watchers. 
It seemed as if the creature were meditating some 


THE GIANT RAY 


III 


crafty plan and working it out with human cun- 
ning. 

The professor followed the moving line with 
the muzzle of his rifle. 

I think I hit him that last time,” he said. 

Big as he is, I don’t see how he can digest 
three of these long bullets. They’ll rip their 
way through a foot of solid oak.” 

Here he comes 1 Look ! ” Bob pointed with 
a shaking finger. 

The line had swung back abeam and slack- 
ened. Bloody bubbles were rising and cracking 
on the surface, and the water itself seemed 
arching upward with the quick rise of the huge 
bulk. 

But when the ray appeared, it backed off and 
began to circle the launch, rasping the tightened 
line along the gunwale. 

Cut away, Bob,” said the professor. If 
that line catches on anything, he’ll upset us in 
a minute.” 

Bob severed the line with his clasp-knife, but 
the ray continued to circle. Round and round 
the launch it swam, like a tiger creeping upon 
its prey. Four times the professor fired at it. 


II2 


BY REEF AND TRAIL. 


and the vicious spat of the bullets told that he 
had not missed. 

Toss me that box,” he said. “ I think that 
beast means to rush us.” 

He tore open the fresh box of cartridges, and 
hastily filled the magazine. 

I reckon we’d better run for it,” said Bob, 
with a white face, and opened the engine to her 
highest speed. 

The launch surged forward, heading for the 
near line of sedge. At the moment the ray was 
astern, moving very quietly; but as it heard 
the swash of the propeller, and caught its mean- 
ing, its tactics changed. It shot forward with 
tremendous rapidity, passing the boat as if it 
were anchored. Then it wheeled, with an up- 
toss of water, and seemed to gather itself for 
a rush. 

Bob threw over the tiller, but before the slug- 
gish launch could turn, the ray was upon them. 
Charging furiously, it sprang clear of the water, 
outspread like a gigantic bat, its enormous mouth 
distended and its two great fleshy fins flapping. 
As Bob and the professor sprang overboard, the 


THE GIANT RAY 11 3 

ray fell upon the launch, smothering it and beat- 
ing its broken timbers under water. 

Bob had taken a long dive over the side. 
When he came to the surface there was no trace 
of launch or devil-fish except the violent agita- 
tion of the water. But the professor’s head was 
visible, minus hat and veil, and it nodded at him. 
Without a word the two turned and swam in 
toward the sedge close by, and crawled, drip- 
ping, among its crackling stems. 

The professor wrung himself out sadly. 

“ What a pity he got away from us ! ” he said. 

Why, I reckon we got away from him ! ” 
Bob’s tone was rueful as he stared at the spot 
where the launch had been. 

The professor smiled in spite of his disap- 
pointment. 

‘‘ Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “ But I’ve 
lost a specimen I wanted very badly. And 
now I’ve got to pay our friend Brown for his 
launch.” 

It wasn’t worth much,” said Bob, walking 
out on the firm sand. “ He couldn’t get a regu- 
lar fisherman to use it at any price.” 


1 14 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

Getting no reply, he turned round and saw 
the professor rooted in the sedge, glaring through 
his wet spectacles at an agitated patch of water 
close in shore. Bob took one quick look at it. 

Better come up here,” he called. ‘‘ It looks 
like that was the old devil again.” 

The professor stood for a moment motionless. 
Then he suddenly wheeled with a startled ex- 
clamation, and came tearing through the water 
to the beach. Spinning on the surface in what 
were evidently its death throes was the great 
ray. The flapping of its huge membranous 
wings drove a series of waves through the bend- 
ing sedge, and up the beach to Bob’s feet. 

The professor had hardly reached firm land 
when the spinning ceased abruptly. The ray 
seemed to rise higher out of the water, and they 
could see it shudder as if the end were near. 
But the huge organism was not to accept its 
quietus without a last struggle. It leaped ahead, 
blind to the direction in which it was going; 
mowed a wide path through the sedge, and 
rammed itself hard and fast on the foreshore, 
where its vast, dusky bulk lay almost entirely 
exposed as the wave carried forward by its rush 


THE GIANT RAY 


IlS 

receded. Its cavernous slit of a mouth opened 
and belched forth a foamy mass of water; its 
great fleshy wings rose and fell in a long quiver. 
Then it seemed to spread itself flaccidly on the 
mud, as loose and boneless as a dead jelly fish. 

The professor slumped down on the sand as 
if his legs had weakened under him. 

By Humbolt ! he exclaimed, and rocked 
back and forth. “ If I don’t make a report out 
of this that will wake up the Ichthyological So- 
ciety then I’ll resign. The old devil jumped right 
up on the operating table, so to speak. I’ll know 
the color of his inside before tonight. How far 
are we from home ? ” 

Not much of a piece,” said Bob. “ I reckon 
about the biggest end of an hour if we take the 
high beach and cut across the necks of those two 
points yonder.” 

Well, I’m going back for my tools,” said 
the professor, rising. “ But first we’ll shake on 
our luck. Bob, my boy, this has been a great 
day.” 

They shook hands warmly. The professor 
cut a humorous figure, hatless and bald, his odd 
clothes dripping salt water and one putty in a 


Il6 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

coil about his ankle. But Bob thought only of 
the man’s pluck and of the charm of his genial, 
scientific mind. He dreaded to think that their 
delightful days were almost over. 

You must come down again, sir,” he said, 
wistfully. “ I’ll be your boatman any time.” 

The professor gripped Bob’s hand firmly. 
We’ll shake on that, too, my boy,” he said. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE PESTS OF THE SWAMP 

One day as Bob was returning from the An- 
chorage Mr. Brown, jogging home in his green 
road-wagon, hailed him with a: 

“ ’Lo there, Leach. Want a lift? ” 

The fish-dealer was, according to his neigh- 
bors, as close as the bark of a tree, ’n the 
inside bark at that.” Giving lifts of any de- 
scription without sufficient recompense was cer- 
tainly not his custom, and even a small friendly 
act like this struck Bob as unusual. He accepted 
the invitation, however, and climbed to the well- 
cushioned seat, wondering whether it was due 
to any special reason. Mr. Brown did not leave 
him long in doubt. 

I hear you’re getting to be quite a fisherman,” 
he remarked genially. You’re sure getting to 
be some of a man, and you look like you could 
do a man’s work.” 


17 


Il8 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

He stole a sidelong glance at Bob, whose broad 
shoulders overtopped his own by several inches. 

'' I reckon I’m growing some,” said Bob, slid- 
ing down a little in the seat. 

“ I never saw a boy grow faster.” Mr. Brown’s 
tone implied a compliment. ‘‘ And what’s more, 
there’s nothing weedy about you. You hold it. 
You thicken as well as lengthen, and that’s what 
I like to see in boys or fish. I like ’em deep- 
bodied.” 

Bob was too embarrassed to reply, and after 
a short pause the fish-dealer resumed. 

What I’m after is this: Fish never was so 
high, or fishermen so scarce. Why, there’s four 
boats quit running within a week, for some fool 
reason or other. Seems like the more folks can 
make the less they want to work. Now you’re 
a worker if I’ve heard right. How is it? ” 

I reckon I’m ready to make money in the 
right way if I have a chance,” said Bob. 

“ You’ve got the chance,” said the fish-dealer, 
laying a mahogany-colored hand on Bob’s knee. 

I’ve got a boat that’s doing nothing but grow- 
ing grass on her bottom. All the fixings with 
her, too. Now you take her off my hands on 


THE PESTS OF THE SWAMP Iig 

shares or hire her straight out; I don’t care 
which so long’s you get busy and bring in some 
fish. You’ve been mulleting, I reckon ? ” 

Oh, yes, sir,” said Bob. 

** Well, then, you take her. Pick up a good 
man to go second, and we’ll both make a smart 
thing out of it. You won’t find me hard to 
make terms with.” 

In spite of this agreeable assurance Mr. Brown 
did what he could to get all the best of the bar- 
gain; but Bob was no fool. His quiet manner 
covered a good share of shrewdness and a great 
deal of determination. At the outset he named 
the sum which he was willing to pay for a sea- 
son’s use of the boat, and no arguments could 
budge him. Finally the fish-dealer, rather than 
lose a promising customer, yielded, and not with- 
out some admiration for what he considered to 
be a piece of sharpness almost equal to his own. 
Well, you can have her at that,” he said. 

Come over and sign the papers tomorrow. I 
always like things down in black and white. The 
boat’s ready and waiting. You can take her on 
the spot.” 

Bob had said nothing about a helper but there 


120 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


was no doubt in his mind as to whom he wanted. 
If Jim would take the place, it was his. Jim 
had been his loyal friend ever since that first 
meeting on the bridge, and Bob was not the boy 
to forget his friends. He was as pleased at this 
opportunity to do Jim a favor as he was in real- 
izing his own long-cherished hopes of engaging 
in the fishing business for himself. 

It was pleasant to see Jim’s delight after he 
realized that the offer was not a joke. His round 
face shone, and he fidgeted to be off on the 
Emmie E. 

'' You’re right good to me. Bob,” he said. I’ll 
work hard for you, I will.” 

Bob slapped him affectionately on the back. 

‘‘ You talk like you think you are the crew,” 
he laughed. “ There ain’t any on this boat, only 
a couple of captains.” 

It so happened that the fishing fleet had come 
home with their fares that evening, and when 
they put forth in the fresh morning the Emmie 
E's brown sail was well in the van. She was in 
perfect trim. What is more, she proved her- 
self a good sailer. Bob and Jim, happy and 
hopeful, ignored the gradually darkening sky and 


THE PESTS OF THE SWAMP 


121 


the increasing vigor of the wind. In comparison 
with the Mudhen the new boat seemed as stiff 
as a church. 

Towards noon, however, as they neared the 
head of the lagoon they were forced to take in 
a couple of reefs. The run was nearly at an 
end, but the wind was blowing a gale, and the 
shallow water was ridged with sweeping, foam- 
capped waves. It was exhilarating, but it was 
ominous weather for fishing, and as the boats 
came one by one into the small cove in front 
of the camp the owners snuggled them down with 
unusual care, and some of the wise ones bridled 
their crafts with a pair of anchors. 

‘‘ Looks like she’d started in to blow a norther,” 
remarked Reese when they had all gathered in 
the long bunk house. “ I didn’t like the look 
of things when we came along. Nary a duck 
in sight.” 

No use to go out tonight, anyway,” said Red 
Simonson. We might’s well get the fire going 
and take it warm and easy. This wind’s sure 
cold.” 

The big stove soon drove the chill from the 
bunk house and the men gathered round it with 


122 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


glowing pipes. The heat brought out a few tor- 
pid mosquitoes, “ just to make things seem more 
natural,” as big Sandy Goulden remarked with 
an oath. Sandy was always a grumbler, and the 
prospect of bad fishing weather had put a keener 
edge to his temper. 

“ Seems to me you're powerful fussy, Sandy,” 
drawled Jeppson. “ You ought to walk across 
Black Point after a spell of rain if you want to 
know what mosquitoes mean. That's their 
earthly Heaven, sure.” 

“ They say you can't range cattle there,” re- 
marked one of the men. ‘‘ The skeeters just 
naturally eat 'em up.” 

“ I reckon that's true enough,” said Jeppson. 
“ I went there once with a fellow from New 
York and they pretty near ate me up, and I'm 
plumb full of quinine, too. The other fellow 
wouldn't have got out alive 'cept for me, I 
reckon.” 

Go ahead,” “ Tell the yarn,” cried several 
smokers. 

‘‘ Well,” began Jeppson, I was guiding for 
this New Yorker, as I told you. His name was 
Cobb. He had an idea that he must kill a b'ar 


THE PESTS OF THE SWAMP 1 23 

before going back North. B’ars stay pretty well 
hid up during the winter, but along about spring 
they begin to stretch and come out of their holes, 
yawnin’ and hungry. When the turtles start 
to laying along the beaches, b’ars is busy folks. 
That’s the best way to get ’em. Jes’ dig a blind 
in the sand, near where the turtles have been 
nesting, and lie out in it on a moonlight night. 
If you don’t get a shot at a b’ar then, I reckon 
there ain’t any in that county. 

I told Cobb that sometimes, between the heat 
and the mosquitoes and the sand-flies, b’ar- 
hunting meant more trouble than fun, but he 
didn’t care. He was a right gritty chap. What 
he wanted was a b’ar’s skin — never mind the 
cost. 

'' It began to rain about then, and kept it up 
for ten days on end. We didn’t try to go out. 
Jes’ lay round our camp on the river shore, 
catching a few fish now and then, and spending 
the rest of the time drying our clothes before 
the fire. 

When the rain broke, Cobb fretted to be 
off.. We started right after supper, and sailed 
down the river into Broadbill Creek. She’s a 


124 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


pretty wide creek, and runs back into the marsh 
for two miles or more without a turn. Then 
she -bends quick to the left, like a doubled-up 
arm, and runs three miles farther, ending in a 
round pond, like a clenched fist. 

“ We left the sailboat at the turn, that being 
as near to the beach as we could get by water. 
It was a cloudy night, and looked as if it might 
rain again. It was hot, though. Hot and sticky. 
And the walking was bad; all niggerheads and 
wallows with tall saw-grass, that kept you from 
seeing where you were stepping. 

Cobb kept slumping down into the muck-holes 
and almost leaving his rubber boots behind when 
he dragged his feet out. That marsh mud’s just 
like glue — and smells about as bad. I wore 
leather shoes. I’d tried a rubber pair once, and 
knew when I had enough. 

We did three miles of this, and then the 
ground began to grow firmer and the grass 
shorter. Presently we struck sand and felt the 
wind off the ocean. 

‘‘We crossed a couple of dune ridges, and 
came out on the beach. The tide was coming 
in. We could see the white rim of it a long 


THE PESTS OF THE SWAMP 1 25 

way on either side of us. There was just enough 
moonlight peepin’ through the clouds to show us 
that, and to touch the tops of the waves with a 
whitish glare. But it looked pretty dark to shoot 
b’ars. 

‘ This is fine,’ said Cobb. ‘ It’s so mysterious 
and — and sort of uncanny. Jes’ hear those 
herons off in the marsh ! Like horns ! ’ 

“ It didn’t take long for us to scoop a shallow 
hole in the sand, jes’ deep enough to lie in com- 
fortable. I’d been up and down the beach a 
little way and seen plenty of turtle sign, so I 
knew we were well placed. I was sure of it a 
moment later when something black and round 
loomed up at the edge of the water. I pointed 
it out to Cobb. 

He gave a jump and grabbed his rifle. 

“ ' Is it a b’ar ? ’ he whispered. 

“ ‘ No, not exactly,’ said I. ‘ It’s a logger- 
head, and she’s bigger than any b’ar you ever 
saw. She’ll weigh eight hundred pounds if she 
weighs anything.’ 

“ You wouldn’t believe how cautious that old 
loggerhead was. She lay just at the edge of 
the water for ten minutes, pretending, probably, 


126 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

that she was a bit of driftwood. By and by she 
began to move up the slope, like a haystack being 
pushed along by jerks. We could hear the hiss 
of her slow breathing and the scrape of her 
flippers on the sand. 

‘‘ Presently she found the right spot, and round 
she went like a wheel, scraping out a hole about 
as big as our blind. It took her half an hour 
to lay her eggs. After she got one layer down, 
she’d scrape sand over it, and then lay another 
on top of that. 

“ ‘ This is better than b’ar-shooting,’ said Cobb. 
‘ Ouch ! That’s the second mosquito that’s got 
home on the back of my neck. There goes 
Madam Loggerhead. She ought to have a nu- 
merous family.’ 

“ ' If a b’ar don’t get ’em,’ I said, ‘ she’s liable 
to have some progeny, sure.’ 

‘‘ And then I heard something pad-padding 
along in the darkness. It wasn’t the logger- 
head. She made a swishing with her flippers 
like a broom on a floor, and besides, she was 
close to the water when I heard it. The next 
moment I saw her big shell slip into the sea and 
disappear. 





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THE PESTS OF THE SWAMP 1 29 

It was a b’ar I’d heard, and probably he’d 
been watching the loggerhead’s performance for 
some time, for he made straight for the nest. 
Cobb saw him, and drew in a sharp breath. The 
critter looked as big as an ox in the moonlight. 

I nodded to Cobb, and we stuck our rifles 
over the blind. The b’ar had uncovered the first 
layer of eggs, and was sweeping them into his 
mouth with both paws, making a noise like a 
hog at a trough, as the warm yolks ran down 
his throat. B’ars are wild over turtle eggs. I’ve 
seen ’em clean out one nest, and then, when they 
happen on another, vomit the first meal up, so’s 
they could have room for the second. Least- 
ways I suppose that’s why they did it, though 
it may have been because their stomachs were 
overloaded. 

When I thought the time was right, I nudged 
Cobb with my knee and we fired. We hit the 
b’ar sure enough, but the light was so poor we 
didn’t hit him in the right place. He came plumb 
for us the next moment with a nasty snarl. Cobb 
fired another shot at him, which turned him off 
to the right, and we heard him go into the reeds 
with a crash. I was using a single shot rifle. 


130 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

and couldn’t slip in another cartridge in time to 
fire, myself. 

‘‘ ^ There goes our b’ar,’ said 1. ‘ Only he ain’t 
ours.’ 

‘ Come on,’ said Cobb, and he jumped over 
the edge of the blind like he weighed no more’n 
Jim. ‘ We’ll get him yet. I’m pretty sure I hit 
him with that last shot.’ 

‘ I’m not chasing any b’ar into that swamp,’ 
I said. 

Cobb was brushing away the mosquitoes with 
one hand and holding his rifle with the other. 

‘ That ain’t the way we hunt b’ars in the 
North,’ he said. ^ When we wound ’em we fol- 
low the tracks until we get ’em.’ 

‘‘ ‘ It’s too dark to follow him,’ I said. ‘ We 
couldn’t find a drove of cattle in there to-night. 
And then there’s the mosquitoes. They’ll be bad 
enough going back to the boat, let alone tramp- 
ing out of our path to wake ’em up.’ 

“ ‘ We’re not afraid of a few mosquitoes where 
I come from,’ said he. 

“ ‘ Ain’t you ? ’ I said. ‘ Perhaps you think 
things in this swamp are the same as up North.’ 


THE PESTS OF THE SWAMP 131 

‘ There’s one thing that’s the same every- 
where, and that’s pluck,’ said he. 

“ I ought to have known better, but I flared 
up then and told him to come on. He didn’t 
make any reply, but followed me into the reeds 
with an air that as much as said he wouldn’t be 
the one to give up first. 

“ For the first few yards it was easy to follow 
the track, but as the grass got higher and the 
ground more broken it came to be pure guess- 
work. 

‘‘ I reckoned the b’ar would head for a big 
hummock about three miles to the south, and I 
laid my course for this, without paying much 
attention to signs by the way. 

I’ve been in some places where the mosquitoes 
were pretty thick, — the Everglades, for instance, 
— but I never saw anything like the way they 
were that night in that swamp. As we went 
slumping and slashing along, our feet stirred them 
up by millions from the soggy ground, and our 
shoulders brushed more millions from the reeds. 
At first they didn’t bother me much, but by and 
by one or two bit me, and that seemed to set 


132 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

the others on. It was as if they’d got a smell 
of blood. 

‘‘ They pelted against me like dust driven by 
a wind, pricking at my face with their little hair- 
like stickers. Of course I used my free hand, 
but it was like fighting smoke, with your face 
over the fire. 

“ They were all over my back and shoulders, 
too, where I couldn’t reach ’em. We wore the 
thinnest kind of cotton outing-shirts, which didn’t 
protect our skins any more than if they’d been 
nets. 

“ I wasn’t going to cry baby, though, before 
Cobb. I kept on as straight for the hummock 
as I could, with the swarms of insects blinding 
my eyes. I could hear Cobb splashing and puff- 
ing behind me, and I knew he was having a 
bad time. Sure enough, he stopped presently and 
called to me. 

“ ‘ I’ll own up I’m a fool,’ he said. ‘ There 
are a few mosquitoes here, and that’s a fact. 
I’m about eaten alive. Let’s go back to the boat.’ 

“ I was about ready myself, so we changed our 
course and headed for the bend of the creek. 
The ground was very bad, and I had to walk 


THE PESTS OF THE SWAMP 1 33 

slowly so that Cobb, who was a heavy man, could 
keep up with me. The niggerheads didn’t seem 
to have any necks to ’em. When we stepped on 
one it would twist like a ball under our feet. 
Sometimes we kept our balance and sometimes 
we didn’t. When we didn’t we’d slip off into 
a bit of knee-high mud and water that sucked 
so you could hear it. 

Pretty soon we struck a patch of reeds seven 
feet high. It was like going down into water. 
I began to have little prickles run up and down 
my back, and fought the reeds jes’ as if I was 
swimming. It was foolish to waste my strength 
that way, but I wanted to get my head out. It 
seemed as if I’d choke if I didn’t. 

My head and shoulders were always in a 
cloud of mosquitoes. Dark as it was, I could 
see the swarms of ’em, like black nets, hanging 
about me. I couldn’t stop to brush ’em away, 
and it wouldn’t have been any use to try. They 
stung me everywhere. The skin was drawn tight 
on my face, and my neck and shoulders burned 
like fire. 

'' I felt my nerve giving way. I suppose it 
was the poison in my blood, but I had hot thrills. 


134 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


jes’ as I have when the ' shakes ’ come on me, 
and I began to run. In about a minute I was 
so turned round that I didn’t know where I was. 

‘‘ I don’t know when I dropped my rifle, but 
I’ve never seen it since. You could hardly call 
it running, for I was on my hands and knees 
in the slime half the time. I tried to keep my 
mouth closed and breathe evenly, but what air 
there was in those thick reeds was hot, and I 
had to gasp to get my lungs full. In a short 
time I was spitting out little wads of mosquitoes. 
After a while I jes’ swallowed ’em. 

“ I’d clean forgotten about Cobb until I heard 
him shout. I reckon he called several times be- 
fore I stopped. Then I went back to where he 
was, up to his knees in mud, without the strength 
to pull himself out. His big, fat chest was heav- 
ing under his shirt, and he was making a noise 
like a clogged engine. 

“ ‘ I’m blind,’ he said. ‘ Jeppson, I can’t see 
a thing.’ 

‘‘ I pulled him out of the mud and tried to 
encourage him. 

‘ Say, have the mosquitoes gone? ’ he asked. 

“ That gave me a chill right there. I thought 


THE PESTS OF THE SWAMP 13 $ 

he was losing his mind. The humming of ’em 
sounded like the singing of a lot of telegraph 
wires in a gale. 

‘ Don’t you hear ’em ? ’ I said. 

Why, I thought that was the wind,’ said 
he. ^ I can’t feel ’em any more.’ 

I touched his face with my hand, and it felt 
wet and hard as stone. His eyelids were puffed 
and closed. 

'' ‘ Be game ! ’ said I. 

^ Game ! I’m like that down to the waist,’ 
he said. ^ I’m through. I can’t go another step.’ 

He sank down on a niggerhead, and the mos- 
quitoes swarmed about his head and shoulders 
like flies about a piece of raw meat. 

An idea came to me to set the reeds afire. 
The smoke would surely drive away the pests, 
I thought. 

I felt through my pockets, but there wasn’t 
a match in any one of them. Then I overhauled 
Cobb’s, but he hadn’t one, either. 

There was only one thing to do, and that 
was to get Cobb to the boat somehow. The 
poison in his system had so sapped his strength 
and dulled his brain that he wouldn’t make an 


136 BV REEF AND TRAIL 

effort of his own accord. But the trouble was 
I didn’t know which way to turn. I was twitch- 
ing all over and had lost all sense of direction. 
One of my eyes was closing, and I was afraid I’d 
go blind any minute, like poor Cobb. 

‘‘ I stood there trying to think for what seemed 
a long time, but couldn’t concentrate my mind 
on anything. I felt as if I’d been skinned, and 
had salt sprinkled on the raw flesh. But some- 
how I didn’t mind that so much as I did the deep, 
steady hum of those bloodthirsty swarms. That 
drove me nearly crazy. It went through me like 
a fever, and I reckon I got some queer in my 
head. 

All of a sudden I heard Cobb speaking. 

** ‘ Who are you talking to ? ’ he asked. 

‘ I haven’t been talking,’ I said. 

“ ‘ You’ve been yelling like a madman,” said he. 

‘ And I thought I heard somebody answer. Ah, 
hear that! Lead me there, Jeppson. Where 
there’s voices, there must be human beings.’ 

It was the deep bellow of an alligator he’d 
heard. The sound came rolling over the swamp 
in gusty grunts, and mighty glad I was to hear it. 
I knew it must come from Broadbill Creek, for 


THE PESTS OF THE SWAMP 1 37 

there was no other body of open water — except 
the sea — anywhere near. 

“ I ripped off my suspenders and tied one end 
of 'em about Cobb's wrist. His hands were so 
swgllen he couldn't have gripped it. Then I 
led him toward where the old bull 'gator was 
bellowing. 

‘‘ Thank heaven, it wasn't far before I saw the 
black shine of the water! Cobb was like a 
drunken man. I don't think he could have gone 
another hundred yards. When I told him we 
were close to the boat he pitched right forward, 
and would have fallen if I hadn't caught him. 
I had to carry him in my arms the rest of the way. 

“ I tell you I felt better when I had the screen 
doors of the cabin shut behind us. I bathed Cobb 
with kerosene oil, — his flesh was as white and 
hard as marble, — and poured some cold coffee 
down his throat. We had to lie there until nearly 
morning. Then a breeze sprang up and I sailed 
the boat home. Cobb was too weak to help me, 
and it was a couple of days before he got back his 
strength. 

‘‘ ' Jeppson,' he said to me, ‘ I'm going back 
home as quick as the next train will carry me. 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


138 

It’ll be a luxury jes’ to sit on my seaside piazza 
and let those futile little insects they call mosqui- 
toes in the North sting me.’ ” 

There was a short silence as Jeppson held a 
lighted match to the bowl of his pipe, which had 
smouldered out during the relating of his story. 

“ That’s a good one,” said Reece, looking 
around the semicircle of listeners with a grin. 

“ Plumb artistic,” observed Jed Jenkins, smil- 
ing still more broadly. 

The others laughed; but Jeppson sat unruffled, 
drawing placidly at his pipe. 

You asked for it and you got it,” he said 
tersely. “ Did you want a poor one? ” 

You’re all right, Jeppson,” laughed Red 
Simonson. “ When we do want a poor one I 
reckon we’ll know better than to come to you.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE ILL WIND 

The men had been confined in camp for two 
days and a half. It would have been useless to 
venture out, even if the boats could have stood up 
under such weather, for fish take to deep water 
during these three days’ winds. So they lay there 
on the beaten-down wire grass in the lee of the 
bunk-house, swapping yarns and listening to the 
everlasting crackle-crackle of the cabbage-palms, 
and the plaints of the wind-blown cranes that 
tried to tack out to the purplish flats of the 
lagoon. 

It was dull sport. The men knew each other 
too well for amusement, and it was quite natural 
they should try to extract entertainment from 
Jim, the greenhorn. 

With the exception of Sandy Goulden, they 
were not really malicious. If Sandy took any 
pleasure in his cross-grained life, it was when he 
139 


140 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

was making someone uncomfortable. He began 
to pick on ’’ Jim the first day, tentatively, with 
an eye on Bob, whose long, clean limbs and broad 
shoulders suggested unpleasant possibilities. 

Bob sat in the lee of the bunk-house, apparently 
absorbed in plaiting a fish basket. He had 
brought Jim into a rough school, and he knew his 
friend must stand his initiation if he ever hoped 
to amount to anything. So, although his gray 
eyes flashed now and then, and the spade-cut over 
his nose grew deeper, he did not interfere. 

On the afternoon of the third day the wind let 
up a little. It was too late for the fishermen, how- 
ever. They were out of grub, and the norther had 
blown the water off the flats, and swept it away 
down the channel to the southward. The camp 
had never seen it so low. They made up their 
minds that if they were to anchor within half a 
mile of the wharf, they would have to start for 
home before sunrise the jiext morning. The 
thought of running back with empty boats made 
them sore. . • 

-V - iP 

“ I reckon I know what’s the trouble with this 
yere trip;” announced Sandy, suddenly. We’ve 
got a Jonah along, and his name is Jim.’’ 


THE ILL WIND 


141 

He rose to his feet and strode slowly up to 
where Jim sat. Jim had made up his mind to 
stand anything rather than involve Bob in a 
quarrel, but it seemed to him that he could not 
bear much more. His nerves were twitching 
like the float-line of a net when it is full of crazy 
fish. 

“ And his name,” repeated Sandy, unctuously, 

is Jim.” 

He reached down a hairy hand, clutched the 
boy by the bosom of his coat, and lifted him to a 
position limply upright. For a moment he looked 
into the eyes of his victim, and the dumb patience 
he read there made his own glow with a sudden 
rage. 

You miserable little yellow pup ! ” he snarled. 

Why don’t you yap ? ” 

With a single swirl of his powerful arms he 
swung Jim from his feet, and threw him head- 
long to the ground ten feet away. Fortunately 
for the boy, he landed on his shoulders in a heap 
of dead palm leaves, where he lay white and 
shaken. 

Bob put down his basket deliberately and 
walked up to Sandy. 


142 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


You’d better try me,” he said, quietly, his 
gray eyes steady, his voice softly persuasive. 
“ I reckon Jim’s plumb tired playing.” 

Sandy paused and put down the foot with 
which he had been about to favor Jim. Then with 
an oath he struck at Bob. 

The hulking bully was far heavier than his 
slim opponent, but somehow his slashing blows 
failed to score. Bob, cool and agile, ducked and 
gave ground, and when the right moment came 
he drove in his hard fist as critically as a woodman 
strikes a line with his ax. His muscles were not 
so big as Sandy’s, but they were more limber and 
unweakened by dissipation, and every ounce of his 
weight went behind his blows. He knew instinc- 
tively when and where to hit and he was as fear- 
less as a bull terrier. 

When Sandy went down for the third time 
there was no more fair fight left in him. As he 
got up stiffly, fumbling at his hip pocket, two of 
the nearest men jumped at him and wrested away 
the knife he had half-drawn. 

‘‘ This is where she stops,” said Red Simonson, 
scornfully. “ Any more of this kind of play, and 
you’ll have the gang to fight.” 





>> 


EVERY OUNCE OF HIS WEIGHT WAS BEHIND HIS BLOWS 



I 



fl 

‘ ^ 

I • . 

r* 




« 

V 


I ' 



THE ILL WIND 


145 


He flung the knife into the scrub as he spoke. 
Sandy shot a furtive look round him out of swol- 
len eyes. There was not a glimmer of sympathy 
in any face; leven his partner, Little Joe, wore 
a dubious, half-pleased grin. 

“ You wait, you — ’’ Passion checked further 
utterance, and with his wild black hair streaming 
about his bruised face, he turned his back on the 
group and strode down to the jetty. 

Jim put a timid hand on Bob’s arm. 

I’m right sorry. Bob,” he gulped. “ Maybe 
I am a Jonah, like Sandy says. There’s this 
norther and — and this fuss with Sandy. He’s 
a mighty mean man. I feel he’ll do something to 
even up on you.” 

“ You hush up,” replied the other, smiling. 

Everything that’s happened was just naturally 
bound to happen. Don’t you go to setting your- 
self up on wheels. You ain’t of that importance.” 

But Jim was not to be so easily diverted. 

“ I’d like to bring you good luck,” he said, wist- 
fully. “ I ought to, sure, taking me in the way 
you did.” 

The camp retired very soon after supper. 
Sandy was the last man to enter the shanty. The 


146 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

lantern had been blown out and the rest of the 
men were half-asleep when he slouched sulkily 
in and threw himself down on his bunk, which 
was close to the door. 

Sometime in the small hours of the night he 
awoke, sore and unrefreshed. The shack was 
filled with unmelodious sounds of slumber. Lift- 
ing his head, Sandy identified the various bunks, 
one by one, with his ears. Satisfied finally that 
all the occupants were asleep, he threw aside his 
quilt and stepped softly to the door. 

Like a shadow he moved down the bank 
toward the jetty. The string of boats lay with 
their sterns shoreward, their rigging cobwebbed 
against the thin starlight. Sandy’s trained eyes 
quickly distinguished the one he wanted, and sit- 
ting down, he drew off his shoes and stockings. 

The Emmie E. was filled with nets from the 
tiny deck forward to the raised platform under 
her tiller, a condition of affairs that Sandy noted 
with satisfaction. She was an old boat, and 
though recently cleaned a few barnacles remained 
on her bottom. He scratched his fingers on the 
sharp cones more than once as he swept his hand 
below her water-line. He had to wet his arm to 


THE ILL WIND 


147 


the shoulder before he struck a promising seam. 
Then he went to work patiently to loosen the 
caked paint and oakum with his fish-knife. 

It was a childish piece of revenge, but Sandy 
was no Machiavellian plotter. In reality, he 
showed some skill in the execution of his plan. 
He did not want the Emmie to sink at her moor- 
ings. It would be more artistic and less suspicious 
to have her spring a leak after she was well under 
way, when the strain of her drawing sail would 
spread the seams with which he had tampered. 

When he had finished his pleasing occupation it 
was almost time for the camp to be astir, but he 
had the undeserved good fortune to gain the 
shanty and creep into his bunk before Red, some- 
times called Clocky ” Simonson for his ability 
to keep track of time, awake or sleeping, gave 
a final regretful snort, and awoke. 

Jim stretched himself on the yielding pile of 
nets, with his face toward the stars, while Bob 
controlled the tiller from his seat in the stern. 
There was enough wind to make the run exhila- 
rating. An agreeable sense of unmeasured speed 
was present, which the light of day, disclosing 
the familiar landmarks on the shore, would have 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


148 

destroyed. The water gushed by the bow with a 
crisp singing, and ran away in writhing lines of 
phosphorescent light in their wake. Overhead 
guttural-voiced, unseen herons were passing. 

Jim was in an apathetic state, half sleepy, half- 
melancholy; but Bob, none too cheerful himself, 
began to glance down at the water with a puzzled 
interest. He peered at the ghostly rim of the 
shore, hauled in and then slackened the main- 
sheet, and fidgeted with the centreboard. 

I reckon she must be rolling up the bottom 
’long with her ! ” he exclaimed at last. She’s 
sure sailing like a sponge this morning.” 

Jim nodded absent-mindedly, watching the 
roseate smear in the east pulsate and grow 
against its curtain of cloud. Already it was send- 
ing out level films of light to which the surface of 
the water responded with a steely twinkle. 

Ain’t she rather low ? ” he asked suddenly. 
Bob looked up from a perplexed consideration of 
the Emmie E., and uttered an exclamation of 
surprise. 

“ Why, the water’s blown clean to the south- 
’ard ! ” he said. I never saw it like this before.” 

After a moment of staring, with a look ahead 


THE ILL WIND 149 

to assure himself that the channel still existed, he 
returned to his study of the Emmie. Jim was 
now conscious that something ailed her. The 
springiness was gone from her lift, and when 
she fell away in a trough she sank soggily with 
none of that sensitive vibration that shows the 
life of a stanch craft. Suddenly Bob whistled. 
He had been poking among the nets with his foot. 

'' She’s drinking like an oyster at flood-tide,” 
he said. 

He cast a quick look about him. 

The dawn was radiant now, filling the atmos- 
phere with soft color. On the east the sedge was 
yellowing, mile on mile of vacant marsh, while 
in the west the Florida coast drew its straight line 
of hard green. 

'' We’ll run her into Mallard Bend — if we can 
get her there,” he said. 

“Think there’s any danger?” asked Jim. 

“ Not after we quit the channel.” 

Bob pushed the tiller over and hauled in on the 
main-sheet. The Emmie responded listlessly, and 
Jim saw the water swash back over the platform 
on which Bob’s feet rested. 

He dug his fingers tensely into the pile of nets, 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


150 

Staring over the side with uneasy speculation. 
Presently he saw the opaque water lighten as the 
glimmer of yellow sand struck up through it. 

I reckon we’re out of the frying-pan,” said 
Bob. But it looks like we couldn’t run her in. 
Ain’t there a bar across the Bend ? ” 

Flats and ill-smelling patches of mud that he 
had never seen before gleamed copper-colored 
under the rising sun. Quantities of dead and 
dying fish lay stranded on the mud, their white 
bellies prodigiously swollen. Ospreys and buz- 
zards were feeding amicably on the profusion. 

Jim stood up and gazed, with his hand on the 
mast. A grayish streak was drawn across the en- 
trance to the cove. 

“ There ain’t more than a couple of inches on 
her,” he reported. 

The Emmie struck bottom almost as he spoke. 
She hung a moment and then slid on a few yards 
farther, trailing a muddy wake. At last she 
came to a full stop, and Bob let the main-sheet 
go with a run. 

With his arms heaped with nets Jim walked 
disconsolately ashore. As he stepped on the lit- 
tle bar a tearing sound went up from the Bend, 


THE ILL WIND 


151 

like the roar of a distant flock of scaup ducks lift- 
ing. A huge, dark patch appeared on the surface, 
and drifted rapidly toward the farther end, as if 
a squall of wind had struck the water. It sank as 
suddenly as it had arisen. Instinctively Jim felt 
that he had made a discovery. 

O Bob! ” he exploded. “ Fish! The Bend’s 
alive with ’em ! ” 

Bob came up leisurely. Gudgeons,” he said ; 
but he picked up a conch-shell and started along 
the strip of mud that bordered the reedy bank. 
Something wavering, almost imperceptible in the 
water checked him. He cast the heavy shell 
toward it. 

Instantly thousands of silvery bodies darkened 
the water in an aimless rush, and several gleaming 
shapes leaped wildly into the air and disappeared 
again with a splash. 

Mullets ! ” he exclaimed, and in a dozen wide,, 
splashing leaps he was back on the bar. “ Yes, I 
reckon you are some kind of a Jonah, Jim.” 

He seized an end of one of the nets and plunged 
with it into the water on the inner side of the 
bar. Jim, quick to catch his idea, sprang to aid 
him. 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


152 

It was plain how the thing had happened. 
The Bend was a deepish blind pocket of water 
running back into the marsh four hundred yards. 
Some time during the gale a band of greedy por- 
poises had struck the huge school and driven it 
into this haven. The larger fish had not dared to 
cross the shoal entrance, and the frightened mul- 
lets had lingered until the falling water had cut off 
their return. 

There ! ” exclaimed Bob, straightening his 
back. “ We’ve got ’em bottled, and we can catch 
’em whenever it suits us. Fifteen thousand 
pounds, if an ounce. What’ll the mother think 
now ? ” 

Jim laughed excitedly. Fifteen thousand 
pounds, and the price of fish sky-high ! 

Let’s fix the Emmie and take a load back,” 
he suggested eagerly, with visions of a triumphal 
home-coming. 

A few strips from an odd square of canvas and 
some rope ravelings made the old boat fairly tight. 
Bob’s forehead puckered as he worked, and he 
made a shrewd guess as to the origin of those 
leaks; but he kept his own counsel. 

They launched the light tender in the Bend 


THE ILL WIND 1 53 

and swept down upon the mullets with the gill-net. 
It was an experience to be remembered. 

The place was actually alive with fish darting 
furiously on every side, their dark dorsal fins 
cutting the water with a sound as of ripping cloth. 
Many leaped the barrier of nets and fell squirm- 
ing on the bar. Some actually landed in the boat 
in their blind fright. The net ballooned and 
tugged at its ropes as it swelled with quivering 
life. The salt drops flew in showers. It was 
tremendously exciting. 

It was hard work, too, although the rising water 
made each trip easier. At last the Emmie was 
flush to her gunwales with the silvery dark-eyed 
fish, and Bob spread her brown sail to the 
wind. 

The stars were out when they dropped anchor 
in the channel off the gray, spidery wharf, but 
the evening was warm and a full quota of fisher- 
men sat lounging on the benches against the 
fish-house. Jocular voices hailed them as they 
rowed in. 

“ Thought the Emmie E. could sail some 1 ” 
How's walking. Bob ? ” 

Stopped to fish, likely ? ” 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


154 

The sally provoked a laugh, but lean, saturnine 
Brown, the dealer, uttered a snort. 

‘‘ You-all make me tired,” he said. There 
ain’t a man among you smart enough to capture 
a minner, and a fish-famine on.” 

I don’t know about that,” drawled Bob, loop- 
ing the painter round a pile. ‘‘If you’ll send 
some of your men out to the Emmie you’ll find 
a few.” 

“ What’s that! ” exclaimed the dealer. “ You 
ain’t got any fish, have you ? ” 

“ All she can hold,” said Bob. “ And it’s only 
an instalment. Can you use a matter of fifteen 
thousand pounds ? ” 

“ Can I use — Say, don’t you know there’s a 
fish-famine North?” and Brown, effectually 
aroused from the sulks, bawled sharp orders to 
his henchmen. 

Bob’s gaze wandered to the stricken line of 
loungers. In their various expressions of aston- 
ishment and chagrin he was tasting the sweets 
of triumph when suddenly he missed a familiar 
face. 

“ Where’s Sandy ? ” he inquired, casually. 


THE ILL WIND 


155 


Red Simonson cleared his throat. 

‘‘ Sandy? Well, I ain’t particular fond of 
Sandy, but I’m due to admit it’s tough to take a 
licking and come home broke, and find your kid 
down with the diphthery all in one day. But say, 
tell me where you found the fish? ” 

Bob’s little self-gratulatory smile died out. 
“ That story’ll keep till to-morrow,” he said, 
‘‘ Jim and me’s too ravenous to talk.” 

As the two picked their way cautiously over the 
rudely laid flooring of the wharf. Bob tucked an 
arm under Jim’s. 

We’re going to make a nice thing out of this,” 
he said. It’s been a lucky trip for us — luckier 
than it has been for Sandy, for instance. That 
kid of his lit on a bad time to take the diphthery, 
Jim.” 

Yes,” said Jim, soberly. He knew what sick- 
ness meant when it took every dollar in the house 
to meet doctor’s bills. 

I was thinking we could afford to give Mrs. 
Goulden a little something,” continued Bob, care- 
lessly. But of course that’s just as you say. 
He picked on you considerable at camp.” 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


156 

“ Oh, I don’t mind — now,” said Jim with the 
same pretence of indifference. His kid’s sick. 
Let’s do it.” 

Bob laughed and squeezed Jim’s arm. “ And 
now that’s settled I don’t mind telling you we 
might consider it like taking out a sort of marine 
insurance policy,” he said. 

“ Yes, I suppose so,” grinned Jim. ‘‘ But it was 
lucky for us the clumsy old fool tried to scuttle 
her. You needn’t think I didn’t catch on. Bob.” 

Just then Jeppson came up behind them and 
clapped Bob on the shoulder. 

‘‘ You ran into a nice piece of luck, didn’t 
you? ” he remarked. “ How much do you reckon 
to make ? ” 

Oh, I don’t know,” said Bob. At a rough 
guess we’ve got ten to fifteen thousand pounds 
tied up in Mallard Bend.” 

Jeppson whistled. Well, well,” he ejaculated. 
“ I didn’t know it was anything like that. I reckon 
you’ll feel too biggerty now to listen to my small 
proposition.” 

Why no sir,” said Bob, smiling. “ Jim and 
I don’t think we’re going to be lucky like this 
all the time.” 


THE ILL WIND 


IS7 

Well, it’s only this,” said Jeppson, his voice 
assuming its natural tone of importance. I 
liked the way you handled Sandy yesterday, and 
I said to myself then, ‘ there’s a young fellow 
that’ll make a good deputy for you if you hap- 
pen to want one.’ Sometimes there’s trouble 
when you try to round up a gang of plumers 
and an extra pair of hands comes in useful. I 
just thought I’d speak to you and get your idea. 
It ain’t every young fellow I’d ask, you know 
that.” 

Jeppson had recently been appointed game- 
warden, an honor that was not allowed to lan- 
guish in his hands. He was a burly man, as 
strong as an ox, and thoroughly conscientious, 
but self-complacent to an extraordinary degree. 

That Jeppson should make such a request of 
him was indeed a compliment. Bob was pleased 
as well as surprised. To be deputy game- warden 
even for a few days was to do public service, 
and the phrase had a big sound in his young 
ears. But in view of the work he and Jim were 
engaged in, the thing did not seem feasible. 

Jeppson, however, overcame his objections. 
He explained that Bob need not bind himself 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 

in any way. He should act only if it was con- 
venient for him, and he was to understand that 
deputies received pay for their services. Under 
such circumstances Bob could not refuse, and the 
warden left them with a satisfied good-night. 

The big catch in Mallard Bend netted the boys 
a round sum, but the season as a whole was so 
poor that without that they would have made 
little more than their expenses. Storms were 
frequent and fish shy and scarce. More than 
once Bob wondered if Jeppson had forgotten the 
talk on the pier. The hard work and the in- 
adequate returns left him dissatisfied and rest- 
less, and he was ready to anchor the Emmie E. 
and seek new adventure. But months passed 
before Jeppson had any need of his services. 

At last one day the warden sent for him. 

How is it? Too busy for a little trip? ” he 
asked. 

No,’’ said Bob. I’m ready to go on a big 
one if you want me to.” 

Jeppson had received word that a gang of 
plume hunters were raiding the rookeries on a 
certain cluster of islands. 

‘‘We can take my boat and run down there 


THE ILL WIND 1 59 

in a day/' he said. There’s no telling how long 
we’ll have to stay. Those fellows are crafty. 
Maybe it’ll take a week to locate ’em. You can 
cook, can’t you? ” 

Bob assured him that he could. 

“ Well then,” said Jeppson. Be ready to 
start at sunrise tomorrow. We’ll run down to 
Flamingo Islands and make that our headquar- 
ters. There’s a queer sort of a stick there called 
Braithe. He’s lived there some years all by him^ 
self. Perhaps he can give us a clue.” 


CHAPTER IX 


A DEPUTY WARDEN 

It was not, however, until early morning of 
the day after the start that Jeppson and Bob 
reached Flamingo Island. There had been no 
air at all, and most of their progress had been 
accomplished by hard work at the sweeps. They 
were thoroughly tired when dawn broke and re- 
vealed the heavily-wooded island close ahead. 

‘‘ There’s Braithe now,” said Jeppson. “ Sein- 
ing a few mullet for breakfast I reckon. I could 
get away with one or two myself.” 

Braithe, up to his knees in the water, saw them 
at the same moment and straightened with a jerk. 
Letting the net swing away in k long line, he 
stared fixedly at the boat, as interested as a wild 
animal is in some unfamiliar object. But, when 
the distance between them had lessened, and he 
was able to recognize Jeppson, he took an easier 

posture and drew in his net. There were fish 
i6o 


A DEPUTY WARDEN l6l 

in it, as the breaking out of quick swellings and 
flashes of half-veiled silver testified. 

“ Hello, Braithe! ” called Jeppson. Can you 
spare a few of those? We’re hungry as sharks.” 

‘‘ Sure I can and welcome,” said Braithe. 
“ What brings you- all down this way? ” 

“ The plumers have been up to their old tricks,” 
said Jeppson. “ Haven’t seen any suspicious 
characters round, have you ? ” 

Braithe turned, with his net bagging behind 
him, and followed the slowly moving boat as 
Jeppson steered her toward a narrow lagoon that 
ran deep into the heart of the islet. 

“ I did see a small white craft the other day, 
with a patched jib,” he said. There was two 
men in her so far’s I could tell. Going over 
to the rookeries today ? ” 

We’ll have a bite and a smoke first,” said 
the warden. “ This afternoon ’ll do I reckon. 
We’ll take the tender and row over to Crooked 
Island. That’s the nearest. Better come along.” 

“ Don’t know but what I will,” responded 
Braithe. Company ain’t so common I want 
to get shut of it the first day.” 

The bite and the smoke were followed on the 


i 62 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


warden’s part by a solid nap ; but, tired as Bob 
was, the novelty of the place and of their quest 
kept him wide awake. He waited impatiently 
for the heavy-eyed Jeppson to bestir himself. It 
was past the hour of three before this happened, 
but at last the tender was unhitched and drawn 
alongside. Bob and Braithe sat at the oars while 
the warden, as became his superior station, di- 
rected their course from the stern. 

It was one of those windless afternoons when 
sky and sea are as opaque and hard in hue as 
paint. The skiff with its three occupants slid 
along without a feather in her wake toward one 
of the outer clumps of mangroves. A flat of 
pinkish blue mud ran out like a lip from the 
stained sedge to meet the deeper blue of the 
water, and on this threshold the rowers presently 
drove the boat. 

As it ran deep into the viscid substance the 
tops of the mangroves bristled with what seemed 
a spike-like bloom, which unfolded to a floating 
cloud of herons so dense that wing touched wing. 
The birds hung a moment in confusion, then 
drifted off in the direction of the mainland. 

“ Little Blues and some Reddish,” said Jeppson, 


A DEPUTY WARDEN 163 

skating forward over the ooze. Not a pair of 
Snowys there so far’s I could see.” 

‘‘ That means they’ve been here,” said Braithe. 
“ You’re a day behind the fair, sheriff.” 

‘‘ I can’t arrest a man before he’s committed 
a crime, can I?” Jeppson snorted. “My job’s 
just begun. Phew! I smell their work.” 

A mat of decaying fish and other offal is always 
one of the most salient features of a large 
heronry. But here the odor was more arresting 
than usual. It was choking in its rankness. Once 
through the collar of sedge that ringed the grove 
the cause was visible. Scores of rotting egrets 
lay scattered over the punk and stained ooze, vivid 
and ghastly in their dead whiteness. 

Jeppson picked up one long body and silently 
inspected the back. The filamented plumes, the 
characteristic ornament of the big snowy bird, 
were gone. He tossed the body back among the 
roots. It was unnecessary to examine the others. 
It was evident that all had been shot and shorn 
by the same greedy hands. 

“ Oh, lovely woman-folks,” said the warden 
with amiable cynicism. “ When you’re marching 
down Fifth Avenue I reckon you-all don’t know 


1 64 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

the whole price of the new hats you’re wear- 
ing.” 

Braithe picked up a black limb, and thrusting 
it up into a mangrove, overturned a matted platter 
of twigs. Two dead and fuzzy fledglings spatted 
into the mud. 

‘‘ There’s two items in the bill,” he said. 

Plumb starved to death.” 

Bob stirred them gently with his foot. 

Well, the account ain’t settled yet.” Jepp- 
son’s tone was official again. “ You see the 
damage, you-all. This job’s about three days 
old, seems to me.” 

Braithe and Bob sniffed appraisingly. 

“ Yes, sheriff, and maybe four,” said Braithe. 

Old enough sure so this place couldn’t be called 
a pleasure resort.” 

She ain’t really fragrant. Well, I reckon 
we’ve seen enough. Three or four days. Hm! 
They may be off to the coast by now to get 
clear of the plumes. Those milliners’ agents will 
likely meet ’em there. But they’ll be back for 
the rest. There’s some good colonies they haven’t 
touched. Two men you say in a white boat with 
a brown jib? ” 


A DEPUTY WARDEN 165 

‘‘ Running to westward day befo’ yesterday,’* 
said Braithe. I took notice because boats ain’t 
so thick as they might be about yere.” 

'' There ought to be footmarks in the mud,” 
ventured Bob. “ It’s low course tides now and it 
hasn’t rained for a long spell. We could tell 
whether it was two, or how many.” 

Jeppson winked at Braithe. 

“ How’s he for a deputy ! Ain’t he a Sherlock 
Holmes?” 

Deputy for you ? Is that so ! ” Braithe 
looked with amused interest at Bob, whose cheeks 
were bright with sudden color. “ He’s sure 
husky, anyway.” 

Yes, sah, he’s deputy warden, deputy cook 
and deputy dish washer,” laughed Jeppson. 
“ You’re all right, Bob, and there’s something in 
your idea, but I don’t see as it would pay us to go 
back. It was those fellows with the brown jib 
sure enough.” 

Bob could stick to an idea in a diffident way. 
He said no more about it, but as they rowed back 
to the sloop it returned persistently to his mind 
that it might be a good plan to examine the flat. 
He had been so pleased and proud over his 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


1 66 

appointment, and he wanted to be something else 
besides deputy cook and deputy dish washer. 

After supper he sat in the cock-pit, leaving 
Jeppson and Braithe below in the little cabin 
foul with tobacco smoke. He could hear the war- 
den questioning his companion concerning his 
lonely life on the key, and he judged from the 
answers that Braithe led a lazy existence, fishing 
and shooting and occasionally dredging for 
sponges and other marketable products of the sea 
which he could exchange on the mainland for 
such luxuries as coffee and tobacco. 

But the talk did not long interest Bob. The 
sloop lay in a small bayou screened by mangroves, 
a place more intimate and fascinating than the 
wider water outside, and especially so at night, 
when it was so full of phosphorescent life that it 
seemed trembling on the edge of ignition. 

The least disturbance of the surface kindled a 
dancing ring of sparks, and now and then a por- 
poise or a crevalle rushed by trailing a wake so 
vivid that it dazzled Bob’s eyes. And once some 
predatory fish gave chase to a school of mullet. 
Their swift movements etched on the black surface 
a maze of glittering lines and pools of greenish 


A DEPUTY WARDEN 1 67 

flame that broke out now here, now there, with the 
uncertainty of tropical lightning, and made Bob 
tingle from head to foot with a pleasure he could 
not define. 

This was only one of its phases. In the screen- 
ing dark the ducks chattered under the banks; 
sociable talk, quite different from the flock calls 
and alarm signals of the day. Coons came down 
among the mangrove roots and cried tremulously. 
Subdued splashings made the shadows doubly 
mysterious. It was nature free from the repress- 
ive influence of Bob and Company. 

By and by Braithe went home, stilling the cove 
by his foot- falls on the bank. Then Jeppson, 
yawning, suggested that they turn in. 

It was a different world the next morning in 
which Bob was important again. After breakfast 
the warden swung himself to the mangrove knees 
to which the sloop was made fast, saying that he 
meant to search the key and would not be back 
before dinner. The prospect of freedom sent Bob 
energetically to work, and when the dishes were 
dried and the cabin tidied, he got into the skiff 
and slipped down the cove. 

Beyond the mangrove walls light and warm 


i68 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


color met him. The sea sparkled cheerfully and 
the clean keys stretched away on either hand like 
a school of sunning leviathans. The bright, bar- 
ren region had been once the favorite rendezvous 
of pirate vessels. The undisturbed sand of its 
keys had been trampled by the bare feet of hun- 
dreds of buccaneers and lighted by the fires at 
which they roasted their beef and counted their 
rich spoils. 

The color of those days still lingered for Bob. 
As he rowed along he conjured up one picture 
after another; the rakish schooners scudding in 
with black flags flapping; the bands of bullies 
leaping in their rough games ; the bonfires paint- 
ing the night skies; the wild carousals in which 
fortunes passed from one reckless hand to an- 
other; and finally the rapacious seaward plunge 
again. Against this background of faded history 
Bob himself and Jeppson and the lazy Braithe 
seemed dull and wooden figures. 

The shock of the skiff grounding on the flat 
scattered the pictures and Bob stepped out smiling 
half regretfully. Those had been stirring if 
dangerous days. Life was a little too placid 


now. 


A DEPUTY WARDEN 


169 

The flat, full of small animalculae, was good 
feeding ground for shore birds. Near the edge of 
the water a band of footprints made an intricate 
lace-like pattern, but higher up there were no 
tracks in the sun-crusted surface until Bob reached 
the place where they had walked the day before. 

The marks were unmistakable and Bob passed 
on toward the eastern end of the flat. There was 
nothing in that direction. Turning, he retraced 
his steps, and west of the skiff he found a single 
line of prints defined in the firm mud. 

He looked around, conscious of a buccaneerish 
feeling, and humoring it while his gray eyes 
twinkled. His imagination made the moment dra- 
matic. But after all, this might be the trail of 
some harmless fisherman drawn to the swamp by 
the need of firewood, and he followed it with 
soberer second thoughts until he reached a crushed 
and yellowish break in the reeds strewn with 
empty cartridges. 

The cartridges told the story. He picked up one 
and examined it. The plume hunter had used 
black powder and a twelve gauge gun. Such a 
load and such a bore were so common that the fact 
was of small importance. If the swamp could give 


170 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


no further clue to the identity of the law-breaker 
Bob would have little news for the warden. 

The swamp gave out nothing but the bitter odor 
of the slain egrets, but on retracing his steps Bob 
noticed that the right boot of the hunter had a 
bar-shaped patch across the sole that left a distinct 
impression in the mud. Here at last was some- 
thing significant. It was a broad, thick patch. 
Bob, with forehead wrinkled, could see it in his 
mind’s eye; but somehow he could not rise above 
it. Study the tracks as he might he could con- 
struct no figure of a man from them. 

“ I reckon that fellow Holmes could have made 
something out of this,” he thought. “ It wasn’t 
the men with the brown jib, anyway. Leastways 
there was only one at this job. He used a twelve 
gauge and had a patch on his right boot and 
stepped kinder long. Hm ! ” 

He scratched his puzzled head. 

‘‘ And I can’t figure out the answer any better 
than what I could this morning.” 

It was still two hours before noon when he 
reached the sloop again. He stopped only long 
enough to tie the skiff to her stern and then swung 
himself across the mangrove knees to firm soil. 


A DEPUTY WARDEN 


173 


Here he struck upon a path which wound like a 
deer trail through the cabbage palms and scrub, 
and brought him presently to Braithe’s shack of 
whitened driftwood thatched with a thick crust 
of palmetto fans. 

He drew the pin from the staple and stepped in. 
It was a man’s nest. Everything there spoke of a 
life reduced to the simplest terms; a life of physi- 
cal effort purely. With a cutlass and a pile of 
pieces of eight on the table it might have passed 
as the retreat of some buccaneer, Bob thought. 
But those picturesque days had gone. 

The room was lighted by a large rectangular 
opening in the wall opposite the unkempt bunk, 
which had the stale and matted look of the form 
of a hare. As Bob stood examining the place with 
curious eyes the doorway was suddenly darkened 
by Braithe’s figure. He had a cast net and a 
string of mullet in his hands, and a handkerchief 
tied about his black hair. 

Hullo ! ” he said with an air that dispelled 
Bob’s sudden consciousness of being a trespasser. 
‘‘ Hit’s lucky I got back early. Where’s the 
sheriff? Got any more ideas about those fellows 
yet?” 


174 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


“ Haven’t had much time,” replied Bob. 

Been fishing? ” 

Braithe tossed the string on to the greasy table. 

“ Hit’s mullet, day in and day out, with me. 
There ain’t much variety in any way to this place. 
You fellows are a Godsend. Set down. The 
bunk’s as soft as anything, I reckon.” 

He himself took one of the rough stools and 
crossing his legs began to unlace his boots. After 
much tugging and grunting he relieved himself 
of the salt-dampened leather. 

‘‘ D’ you mind tossing me those moccasins, 
under the bunk there? At the foot. Thanks. 
Hm! Hit shorely does feel good to get your 
feet into light gear. I’d wear ’em right along 
this weather, but I cut my toe on a horse-winkle 
and I have to favor it.” 

He kicked the heavy shoes into the centre of 
the floor and stretched out his legs luxuriously. 

“ So the sheriff ain’t got any new ideas. 
Where’d you say he was? ” 

“ Somewhere round here,” said Bob. He got 
up and stared absently about the room. He 
said he’d patrol the island and be back to dinner. 
You’ve got a right smart house here.” 


A DEPUTY WARDEN 1 75 

'' She holds me alright and no taxes to pay. 
Sit down, suh, and make yo’self comf’able. Don’t 
you fret about dinner. We’ll eat hit right yere and 
I’ll cook hit. The sheriff’ll shorely drop in 
bye-m-by.” 

Bob looked at Braithe’s hospitable, smiling face 
and his eyes flickered. 

Alright, sir,” he said ; but instead of resum- 
ing his seat he moved slowly about the room ex- 
amining the implements with which its walls were 
decorated. He paused finally in front of a pair 
of well-oiled guns, and Braithe, though his back 
was turned, hit instinctively upon the attraction. 

You won’t find another pair like that in South 
Fluridy,” he boasted. “ That top one she can 
crack bone at seventy-five yards. I don’t have 
to do no stretching when I fire her. She just 
naturally reaches out to ’em. Yes, sah, she 
throws shot plenty hard.” 

His face softened with the true gunner’s love 
for his implements, and the little stir of pleasur- 
able emotion sent his hand into his pocket for pipe 
and tobacco. 

Bob lifted the gun from its peg and threw the 
top-lever over. The breech tilted and he saw the 


1^6 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

brass bases and undented caps of a pair of 
cartridges. 

“ Look out, she’s loaded,” said Braithe. He 
held a match to the black tobacco and glanced 
over his shoulder. “ I reckon I wouldn’t be good 
for much if I got her charge in the back at this 
range.” 

“ You ain’t good for much right now ! ” Bob’s 
tone, oddly raucous, stripped the words bare of 
any possibly humorous suggestion. 

Braithe’s hand with the dead match in it hung 
over the bowl and the lips that had started to curve 
amusedly round the stem of the pipe flattened 
with a twitch. Bob closed the gun gently. The 
resonant click of the breech falling into its bed 
rang in the silence with something of the solem- 
nity of a clock striking in the night. 

“ What ! ” cried Braithe in a rather high voice. 
His hand dropped limply. Everything' save his 
eyes expressed a sort of numbed wonder, but they 
were fixed and very bright. 

There’s a patch on your boot,” said Bob, 
shaking a little. “ I saw it right now. And I 
found this on the blanket.” 

He opened his hand and displayed a silvery 


A DEPUTY WARDEN 1 77 

barb from an egret’s plume, hardly coarser than 
a hair. 

‘‘ I went back to the flat this morning and I 
found where you walked. I know it was you now, 
’count of the patch. There were forty shells there 
— and what have you got to show for ’em here ? 
‘ Hit’s mullet, day in and day out, with me,’ you 
say. You wasn’t after meat. It was plumes ! ” 
He paused, breathless. Braithe’s throat pulsed. 
‘‘You lie!” he said. “You — ” 

“ Sit still ! ” The dropped muzzle of the gun 
lent emphasis to Bob’s order, and Braithe, rigid, 
sat poised on the stool. The frank and welcoming 
warmth had been struck from his face, leaving 
it as hard and aggressive as the beak of a hawk. 
His coarse hair looked longer and blacker than 
before; the yellow handkerchief bound about it 
seemed all at once barbaric and completed the re- 
semblance dawning in Bob’s mind. Yesterday and 
to-day had their likeness after all, and Braithe was 
at heart a buccaneer with as little regard for 
anything except weapons or superior strength as 
the men who had once divided their violently 
acquired gold here on this very key. Bob’s anger 


rose. 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


178 

You’d have jumped at me, would you! It’s 
lucky I had the gun. And you’d pretend you ain’t 
the man we want I ” 

‘‘ Pretend ! ” Braithe’s voice was harsh with 
scorn and indignation. “ I don’t have to. Put up 
that gun. What — Ha! Yere’s the sheriff. 
He’ll — ” 

He’ll listen to me,” said Bob, as Jeppson 
stepped into the room. “ Warden, I’ve got our 
man. The plumes are here somewheres. In this 
room. Look for ’em, warden. Try the bunk 
first.” 

Jeppson blinked from one to the other, his puck- 
ered face showing the effort of his slow mind to 
grasp the situation. 

“ What right have you-all to search my 
house?” said Braithe. “Where’s yere warrant 
for hit?” 

“ Warrant ! ” The familiar word seemed to 
bring the warden out of his fog. His expression 
assumed some of its customary placid self-conceit. 
“ I don’t need a warrant to search a squatter’s 
house.” 

He stepped to the bunk and tossed back the wad 
of blankets and mattress. 


A DEPUTY WARDEN 


179 


‘‘ Hold on there ! ” snarled Braithe. 

‘‘ Hold on yourself,” replied the warden. 

He drew out a long, stiff pasteboard box and 
threw the cover aside. His cheeks puffed out like 
apples. 

Ha ! Ah ha ! ” he exclaimed, and his big 
face expanded in a sort of ogreish enjoyment. 
“ Keep the gun on him, deputy.” 

There they were, the delicate, spraying plumes. 
The box was full of them, some so fresh that 
their nibs were still as white and waxy as clots 
of milk. 

You’re shore a cute one,” said Jeppson, shak- 
ing his head. The ladies of New York, God 
bless their unthinking little hearts, will miss you 
some.” 

He drew a pair of steel bracelets from his 
pocket and advanced majestically toward Braithe. 
The detected culprit winced when he felt them 
snap about his wrists, but he tossed his head 
defiantly and pressed his lips together. 

“ The last item on the bill, my man,” said the 
warden. “ So you thought you could snap your 
fingers under my nose, eh ! ” 

Braithe looked at him with a wry grin. 


l8o BY REEF AND TRAIL 

Yes, and so I might have,” he said. ‘‘ But 
that deputy dishwasher of yours has got some- 
thing on each side of his nose, and that’s eyes.” 


CHAPTER X 


IN PIGEON HAMMOCK 

The warden dropped the letter beside his chair 
and stretched his bleached and unsteady hands 
before the pitch-pine blaze. 

It’s mean to be laid up when there’s a call like 
this,” he complained. Sandhill cranes never did 
seem like game to me and quails is ondignified 
little birds, but you can’t find fault with a turkey 
whether you sleep well or not. It cuts right acrost 
the grain to hear that some ornery fellows are 
trapping turks and shipping ’em to the Tarragonia 
— to fat up a lot o’ rich Yankees! ” 

'' How long do you cal’late to be sick? ” asked 
Bob. 

The warden hitched his chair somewhat nearer 
to the blaze. 

It’ll take about a cord o’ wood to thaw me out 
this time, Bob. I’m chilled clean to the marrer.” 

“ Well,” began Bob with some hesitation and 

i8i 


i 82 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


eyes bent upon the red coals, “ it seems like I 
might run down there and look ’round while you 
get warmed up. It wouldn’t do any harm, 
would it ? ” 

Jeppson lifted his drooping head and eyed his 
young assistant, half-amused, half-irritated. But 
it was not in him to be jealous. A blind con- 
fidence in his own abilities effectually prevented 
him from seeing or feeling those of others, and he 
looked upon Bob as a tool, useful only when he 
chose to make him so. 

''H’m!” he said. “You did all right last 
month with that fellow Braithe we caught plume 
hunting. I’ll allow. But without me you’ll find it 
mighty different. If you go careful and don’t say 
nothing or do anything, I dunno’s you’ll do much 
harm — or much good either. I’ll join you soon’s 
this chill’s gone.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Bob, as pleased as if 
the careless permission had been a command, and 
after a few moments more of talk he left the sick 
man shivering over his fire. 

He was respectful and even diffident, was Bob, 
in the presence of his superior, but he had a mind 
of his own and something moreover that the war- 


IN PIGEON HAMMOCK 1 83 

den never would have, a pair of observant eyes 
and a love for nature. A knowledge of the ways 
of birds and beasts seemed to Jeppson of no value 
in his profession, and there he erred, for the trail 
of the hunter is closely correlated to that of the 
hunted. 

The brisk, complacent warden, radiating an 
atmosphere of officialdom, seemed to thrust aside 
the shy advances of nature; but this time Bob 
was to make his entry, at least, alone. Where 
Jeppson would have been conscious of nothing but 
the jolting wagon and the length of the pale road, 
his assistant felt the mystery of the life, hushed 
yet virile, that thickened about him with every 
additional mile beyond the disturbing borders of 
the little town. The gregarious pines seemed sen- 
tient creatures standing in watchful ranks, their 
tops thick with conjectures about him. Some of 
them were stately and dignified; others almost 
threatening, and some were weak, unhealthy or 
actually deformed. But lusty or ailing they were 
the lords of this soil and looked down upon the 
rank palmetto scrub as upon a coarse and per- 
manent peasantry. 

Occasionally the uniformity of the open forest 


184 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


was broken by a “ hammock/’ a clot of renegade 
trees crowding blackly together as if conspiring 
against the rule of the pines. One of these, or 
rather a series of such matted groves united under 
the name of Pigeon Hammock, was Bob’s desti- 
nation. Long before it was reached the road 
faded to an indefinite strip of cleared soil, so 
little travelled that the plump red roots of the 
palmetto roughened its surface. Ignorant, poor 
and lawless the crackers of the hammock took 
small interest in the outside world and resented 
any expression of its curiosity in their direction. 

To Bob’s relief the gun and bag of cartridges 
together with his youthful appearance suggested 
no unusual possibilities. At least when he applied 
for board and lodging at the first house he came 
to, the only concern of the owner, Mr. Gale 
Travis, was over the matter of remuneration, and 
that satisfactorily settled he was all hospitality. 
At the conclusion of the bargain a woman with 
sagging hair and dress appeared in the doorway, 
her arms somewhat truculently akimbo. Behind 
her peeped a row of circular-eyed children. 

My wife, sah,” announced Mr. Travis, 
proudly, but without removing his feet from their 


IN PIGEON HAMMOCK 


185 

elevated position on the verandah post. And 
the young-uns — Millicent, Mabel and Morti- 
mer!” 

Bob’s bow was met with a hard stare. He 
turned to the man. 

“ You ain’t Fluridy born, I reckon,” he said. 

Travis was surprised and pleased. 

Huccome you to guess that, sah ? I reckon 
book-learnin’ shows on a man. No, sah. I’m 
from Car’lina.” Then looking with new interest 
at Bob he added : How old might you be, 

sah?” 

“ About old enough to be brother to Mrs. 
Travis, I reckon.” 

This naked flattery was received with appre- 
ciation. The woman thawed into a sudden laugh, 
and her husband, smiting his bony knee, ex- 
claimed : 

You’re smart enough to find the turks, I 
reckon ! ” 

I hope so,” said Bob, smiling. “ Can you 
tell me where to look? ” 

Travis’s manner became dignified. 

No, sah. My time’s took up keeping hogs out 
o’ this yere truck patch.” He picked up a short- 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


1 86 

handled whip and with a deft turn of the wrist 
sent the long, heavy lash swinging out in a flight 
that ended in a report as sharp as that of a rifle. 

ril bust ’em wide open if they come trifling 
round yere,” he added belligerently. 

Mr. Travis’s labors were a fair sample of the 
activities of Pigeon Hammock. Bob had never 
seen a place so poor and apathetic. The dozen 
shacks were all falling slowly to pieces and weeds 
and bushes were gaining ground in every garden 
patch. The gardens and a common herd of gaunt 
hogs furnished practically the sole sustenance of 
the village, though occasionally a lank cracker 
sauntered forth into the woods in a half-hearted 
pursuit of game. 

From the beginning Bob was made to under- 
stand that his presence was not wanted on these 
hunting trips. And he was quite willing to go 
alone. He knew that these surly, suspicious 
crackers would hide any evidences of law break- 
ing from him whether they were satisfied that 
he was a market gunner or not. They were as 
clannish as mountain men. 

It was a turkey country, but the birds had been 
hunted so much that their ordinary craftiness was 


IN PIGEON HAMMOCK 189 

doubled. Day after day Bob crept through miles 
of stiff palmetto and thickets of live and water- 
oaks. Sometimes he shot a few quail or a string 
of wild pigeons for the sake of appearances, but 
of the royal game he found no trace until he gave 
up still-hunting and took to “ calling.” 

His place of ambush, a grove of water-oaks, 
was selected after much thought. In it he built a 
screen of boughs behind which he sat and sucked 
upon a hollow wing-bone, imitating now the pride- 
ful yelp of the gobbler, and now the demure cluck- 
ing of the hen. 

One afternoon he got an answer. Softening 
his note with his hollowed hand he drew the bird 
nearer until he could hear his stealthy tread among 
the dead ferns. Suddenly he appeared, a great 
gobbler, swollen and broad of tail, with wattles as 
ruddy as Christmas berries. Boldly he looked 
about him for the hen whose soft invitation had 
brought him. Then he heard Bob stir and per- 
ceived his danger, and his puffed plumage sank. 
The scrub shook under the beating of heavy 
wings and with a glint of brown and bronze the 
great body rose and hurtled off among the water- 
oaks. 


1 90 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

Bob threw down his screen to get a clearer 
vision. The gobbler thundered through the grove 
and out into the open where the sun struck me- 
tallic sparks from his burnished back. On he flew 
over the still palmettos, a burly figure, straight for 
a distant clump of oaks at the edge of which the 
big wings set stiffly. 

After an hour’s work Bob marked down the 
flock of which the inquisitive gobbler was a mem- 
ber in a plain of scrub a half mile beyond the 
grove. As the sun sank they came together and 
moved rapidly off in single file, rising at last for 
the short flight to the roost. Bob was close behind 
them, and collecting a heap of grass and ferns he 
burrowed into it and was soon sound asleep. 

He awoke before daylight and lay peeping out 
of his nest while the east grew warm. With the 
first red gleam of light the turkeys began to gob- 
ble and bubble gutturally, mincing back and forth 
along the live-oak limbs. Then the old gobbler 
leader launched himself quietly into the air and 
the whole hungry flock followed. Unconscious 
that they were watched they proceeded straight 
for the ground on which, morning after morning, 
they were accustomed to look for their breakfast. 


IN PIGEON HAMMOCK 


191 

Sure of this important fact Bob, decidedly 
hungry himself, started back to Pigeon Hammock. 
The mist so common in this region still clouded 
the woods and gemmed the coarse grass with 
drops of moisture, but the sun was fast dispelling 
it. Only a few pearl-colored pennons drifted 
wanly in the daylight when he saw the chimney 
of Rufus King’s house sending up the black 
smoke of a new fire. 

King had seemed to Bob an unusually surly 
man, and he turned from his course to avoid pass- 
ing through the unkempt yard. But as he went by 
he saw the cracker sitting on the doorstep with his 
head in his hands and such a forlorn look about 
him that instinctively he stopped and asked him if 
anything was the matter. 

King raised his head and stared at him a 
moment, not resentfully but as if he had not 
heard. 

“ My ’Gusta’s sick,” he said. Then with a sud- 
den intensity of gaze he added, ‘‘ Do you know 
any doctoring ? ” 

Bob walked up to the door. 

“ Not much. Can I see her? ” 

King led the way into the house. Like all the 


192 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

rest in the hammock it had only two rooms, a com- 
bined kitchen and living-room and a bed-room. 
The girl lay on a corn-shuck mattress, flushed and 
bright-eyed. Bob threw open the small window 
and then touched the hot little forehead with 
his fingers. 

“ I reckon it’s malaria,” he said. Pore little 
kid. She wants the right kind of good grub and 
a doctor. She’s pretty.” 

She favors her mammy.” King’s tone was 
harsh. 

Bob looked up inquiringly. 

“ She’s where we-all won’t never see her,” 
said King. “ I reckon you know where that is. 
The chills and fever took her, too.” 

Get a doctor for the young ’un. She’s sick, 
but he can fix her.” 

With unnecessary caution they had stepped to 
the door. The child, tense with fever, was quite 
oblivious of their presence. King laughed 
strangely. 

‘‘ A doctor and good grub ! Hit’s easy enough 
fo’ you to say hit. Where’s the money to come 
from? Hit costs a dollar fo’ the doctor and I 
hain’t got hit ! ” 


IN PIGEON HAMMOCK 


193 

Bob himself had none to spare, but he felt a 
thrill of pleasure that he had, at least, the neces- 
sary sum. 

Will you take this ? ” He held out two silver 
coins. You can pay it back. But it’s no time 
to talk about that. The young-un needs it.” 

King took the money mechanically. Then his 
expression so changed that Bob, embarrassed, 
looked away. 

Her mammy’s buried under that live-oak 
yonder, suh. I reckon hit’ll be thar over her when 
some rich folks’ gravestones won’t be standing. 
She never had no money, but she seemed to get a 
heap out’n life. She laughed right easy, and she 
gave a heap, suh. I’ve been thinking of what she 
gave me. I reckon hit was all a man really needs. 
There ain’t anything mo’ fo’ me now, ’cept ’Gusta 
— and she’s her mammy’s baby. 

I ain’t aiming to trouble you, suh, but I have 
to say hit. Hit was two months ago she died 
and the doctor ’lowed he wouldn’t come no mo’ 
’cept I paid him fo’ waiting on her. I sold most 
everything, but hit ain’t all paid yet. I reckon 
this dollar’ll bring him though. Thank you, 
suh.” 


194 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


“ If it don’t,” said Bob gently, I know one it 
will bring.” 

The next day Bob was up before sunrise and on 
his way to the feeding ground of the turkeys. 
Everyone in the little community seemed, still 
abed. Some hogs that had taken advantage of the 
hour scampered from the gardens, woofing with 
astonishment. This time Bob knew just where 
to go, and it did not take him long to reach the 
place; but the turkeys had got there before him. 
His footsteps sent them booming off in all 
directions. 

As he watched them vanish the heavy throb- 
bing of their wings seemed to linger with curious 
insistence in his ears. But the sound was more 
muffled and irregular than that made by a free 
flying bird, and immediately he guessed the 
reason. 

He had not expected such luck. Guided by the 
sound he ran forward until he came upon the trap, 
an old fish seine hung upon low posts, with an 
entrance like that of a lobster-pot. Two fright- 
ened turkeys bounced about in it with a tremen- 
dous flapping. 

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IN PIGEON HAMMOCK IQS 

by and Bob slipped into them and waited with 
pounding heart for his man. The denouement was 
at hand and he hardly knew whether to be glad 
or sorry. This was his own success, but what 
would the warden say? And who was the trap- 
per? It might be Travis himself. 

The daylight strengthened and the mocking- 
birds began to sing. A cardinal, rich as a flake 
from the eastern sky, alighted on a branch above 
the trap and looked at the prisoners with a 
whistle of astonishment. Across the brightening 
spaces visible between the tops of the oaks a 
buzzard wheeled, the under coverts of his wings 
as dense as black velvet against the steel-gray 
flight shafts. In an adjoining hammock a 
squirrel chirred. And as the gold tinge grew, 
the mysterious daytime hum of the woods rose 
and trembled in the air. 

A myriad small sounds combine to make 
this hum, but they are all homogeneous. It is 
easy to detect a foreign note, however faint, 
among them, and presently Bob was aware of 
such a note. He could hardly hear it, but he knew 
it was not made by bird or wild animal. A 
ground-dove heard it and whirred off on v/ings 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


196 

as fluted and rosy as sea-shells. Then the sound 
became a light steady crunching, accompanied by 
the crackle of scrub and ferns as the man forced 
his way through them. 

Bob, unable to see plainly, heard the turkeys 
thrash as the man approached. There was a Wild 
and pitiful scrambling in the trap for a few mo- 
ments, followed by silence. Then Bob jumped 
out of the cover and faced — King. 

The cracker, half crouching over the trap, 
stared at him without moving. 

What do you want here ? ” he said. 

‘‘ You ! ” said Bob. Mechanically he threw 
back his coat and displayed the little nickel shield. 

King’s eyes glittered as brightly as the bit of 
metal. 

'‘You want me? Whatfo?” 

" I’m a game warden,” said Bob, " and I’ve 
caught you in the act.” But there was no triumph 
in his tone. Taller by half a head and broader 
of shoulder, he looked down upon the pale, un- 
derfed cracker with pity. 

" Sho ! ” breathed King. " I reckon you will 
get your dollar back and mo’ too.” 

Bob flushed. 


IN PIGEON HAMMOCK 


197 


“ Yes, you’ll pay it back. I ain’t worrying.” 

“ You’d get half my fine if I could pay hit ! ” 
cried King. “ Yes, suh, I’ve trapped a few turks 
to pay the doctor fo’ tending her when she died. 
I ain’t sorry. Seems like it isn’t no great harm. 
But I’m sorry you caught me, ’count of ’Gusta.” 

You might ’ve thought of her before,” said 
Bob. You’ve broken the law, but it don’t seem 
such a terrible bad break. Game laws ain’t like 
some laws. Perhaps it’s wrong, but ’Gusta needs 
you and every honest cent you can get. If you 
will swear to quit trapping we’ll jest forget it 
all.” 

King straightened slowly and dropped the dead 
bird. 

You ain’t going to arrest me? ” 

“ No, I ain’t,” said Bob. “ It may be wrong 
for me to do it, being an officer, but — there’s 
’Gusta.” 

King’s face turned dead white. 

“ I swear I never will trap any mo’,” he said 
huskily. 

“ That’ll be all right,” said Bob. 

There was a moment of silence. After the 
manner of men, both King and Bob felt shy be- 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


198 

cause their hearts had been touched. Then King 
with a half-audible Thank you, suh,” turned 
away, leaving the dead turkeys on the ground. 

Bob heaved a sigh. What was his moment of 
success? The warden would account it as fail- 
ure; but it was not wholly ashes in his own 
mouth. 

For some time after King left. Bob sat by 
the dead turkeys thinking hard. He was in an 
awkward situation : officially he had not done his 
duty; and, though he did not regret that fact, 
it was to be supposed that Jeppson would. Bob 
did not entertain for a moment any thought of 
concealing his breach of trust, nor could he see 
any way of bettering King’s case. There was 
nothing for him to do but tell the whole truth and 
resign from his office. 

Strengthened by this resolution he picked up 
one of the dead birds, and slinging it on his 
shoulder, started on the back trail. The knowl- 
edge that his brief career as Jeppson’s deputy 
was over was rather pleasing than otherwise. 
Somehow this tracking down of men, law break- 
ers though they were, was depressing work. He 
had felt sorry even for the rascal Braithe. To 


IN PIGEON HAMMOCK 


199 


confine such a man was like caging a liberty- 
loving hawk; both were children of nature to 
whom the freedom of the wild places was as 
necessary as the breath of life. 

When he arrived in sight of King’s shack the 
door stood wide open on its leather hinges as 
if the owner, in his perturbation, had forgotten 
to close it. Knocking on the lintel Bob stepped 
inside. There was the clink of a pan in the tiny 
kitchen and King appeared with a piece of raw 
bacon in his hand. 

Hello ! ” he said, and looked from Bob to the 
turkey in awkward surprise. 

“ I thought the girl might like this,” said Bob. 
“ What’s done’s done, and there’s no use leav- 
ing them both to rot. A little soup from it won’t 
hurt her.” 

King took the bird, and mechanically tested the 
plumpness of its breast. His drawn face lig’ht- 
ened. 

Come and set,” he said, and moving quickly 
into the kitchen, drew a stool from against the 
wall and flicked his sleeve across it. “ I’m going 
for the doctor directly, but this will hearten her 
a heap, I reckon. She don’t seem to relish bacon. 


200 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


Sick folks want different grub from what’s com- 
mon to ’em other times.” 

Evidently the first sight of Bob had aroused 
the cracker’s suspicions; but when he realized 
that sympathy alone had inspired the visit/ his 
cramped nature expanded in a rare glow of hos- 
pitality. He brought Bob a dipper of water 
sweetened with the crude juice of the sugarcane, 
lowered the rag across the window to keep the 
sunlight out of his guest’s eyes, and kept up a 
flow of frank talk concerning himself as he shuf- 
fled about preparing dinner for the sick child. 

It was plain that he was bursting with grati- 
tude and eager to express it in some practical 
form; for, as he moved about, he picked up in 
turn his gun and some poor little belongings that 
passed as ornaments and seemed to weigh them, 
with one meditative eye on Bob. But the right 
combination of feeling and gift was not reached 
till he took a small glass jar from the cupboard. 
A look of relief and determination came over his 
face and he stepped up and thrust it into Bob’s 
hands. 

Here’s a little present I want you to have, 
suh,” he said. “ Maybe you can make some- 


IN PIGEON HAMMOCK 20i 

thing out of hit. The nigger that gave hit to me 
swore hit was worth a pot o’ money.” 

Bob looked at the jar. It was perfectly plain, 
originally of a bottle-green color, but so worn 
and glazed by time and other agents that it was 
as lustreless as ground glass. Its stopper was 
broken to a mere stub. It looked as valueless as 
an old tin can. 

“ Open hit, suh,” said King. “ There’s writ- 
ing inside.” 

Bob removed the stopper and drew out what 
seemed to be a small roll of parchment. It was 
thick and stiff; but by pressing it on his knee, 
he was able to keep it spread and read the fol- 
lowing words, evidently written with something 
broader than a pen: 

Beef Island 

From the Four Palmetoes 400 Feet North East by 
North. The Top of the Liveoak then Lies due 
North. From this Point It Lies East 100 Yards. 

M. 

Ha ! ” cried King. '' That’s hit. Buried gold, 
old black Henry said hit was on his death-bed. 


202 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

Hit was all before his time, but he got hit from 
a sailor-man who knew.” 

Do you believe it? ” asked Bob smiling. ‘‘ I 
never heard of any Beef Island.” 

‘‘ I’m not a coast man,” said King. ‘‘ I couldn’t 
tell you about the island, but I reckon hit’s off 
there. Old Henry said hit was and he’d sailed 
a powerful lot. I dragged him home after the 
tree fell on him, and he pulled this bottle out of 
his trunk and give hit to me jes’ before he died. 
‘ There’s a mess o’ gold in that for someone,’ he 
says ; ‘ and I’d like for you to have hit ’cause 
you brought me here to die decent in bed.’ ” 

“ Why don’t you try to find it yourself ? ” 
asked Bob. 

King shook his head dispiritedly. 

I’m not a sea-faring man and I don’t know 
one end of a boat from t’other,” he said. “ I’ve 
got my ’backy and I’ve got my house, and — 
she’s buried out under that liveoak like I told 
you. No, suh, I reckon to stay right yere long’s 
I last. But I want for you to find hit, suh.” 

Well,” said Bob, “ it seems some late to hunt 
for it now. But thank you just the same. If 
anything comes of it I won’t forget you. King.” 


IN PIGEON HAMMOCK 203 

He held out his hand which the cracker pressed 
gratefully. 

“ I know you won’t,” said King. ‘‘ And thank 
you for what you’ve done for me and mine.” 


CHAPTER XI 


TO CAMEL CAY 

Half-way back on his return to Ordville, Bob 
met Jeppson, and inducing him to leave the 
wagons and walk beyond the range of the drivers’ 
ears, he told him what had taken place. With- 
out waiting for any comment, and indeed aston- 
ishment seemed to deprive the warden of the use 
of his tongue. Bob humbly requested leave to 
tender his resignation. 

Jeppson, still somewhat shaky from his attack 
of malaria, mopped his forehead, blew his nose, 
and loosened the collar round his thick throat. 
Having cleared himself for action, he looked Bob 
sternly in the eye. 

‘Hf you’d arrested that fellow King,” he 
boomed, I’d have taken your resignation hand 
over fist. Bob Leach. Law be swizzled! You 
did a good thing by the law when you refused 

to do your duty, and a better thing by human 
204 


TO CAMEL CAY 


205 


nature. That cracker won’t trap any more tur- 
keys, or shoot out of season either, I reckon, 
and if he’d been fined or jailed, like as not he’d 
be at it again, harder’n ever, soon’s he got clear. 
You send your man back and we’ll go home.” 

Of course,” the warden resumed when Bob 
was seated by his side and the team turned toward 
Ordville, ‘‘ of course, the sick kid makes all the 
difference. It seems to me, speaking unofficially, 
it was a case that called for discretion, and dis- 
cretion pretty often means mercy. I reckon I’m 
allowed some latitude in this business, and I say 
you did about right; but it’s just as well to keep 
it between us two. Let some folks know you’re 
human and they think you’ll swallow any old 
story. Now what’s this stuff about a bottle? ” 

Bob produced the glass jar from his pocket 
and removed the little scroll of parchment. Jepp- 
son studied the inscription with a sceptical smile, 
and smacked it with his open hand. 

“ Don’t think it’s worth much ? ” asked Bob. 

Not the thing it’s written on,” said the 
warden. 

‘‘ I never heard of Beef Is. myself,” com- 
mented Bob, disparagingly. 


2o6 by reef and trail 

‘‘ Well, as to that, there’s a Beef Is. all right, 
or there was. That’s a kind of old-time , name 
for it, and I reckon it’s true enough that there 
was cattle on it once which the pirates used to 
kill and barbecue. The island’s down on the 
charts now as Camel Cay, owing to the hump 
on it. But as for any gold being buried there. 
I’ll eat all you or anybody else ’ll find.” 

With a contemptuous laugh Jeppson popped 
the scroll into the bottle and handed it back to 
Bob. 

Better heave it into the scrub,” he advised. 
‘‘ It’ll unsettle your mind to no purpose.” 

But Bob put it into his pocket instead. Now 
that he knew there was a Beef Island the thing 
assumed a different aspect. A longing began to 
grow in him to visit the place and see whether 
or not there was a clump of four palms there. 

I reckon I’ll keep it just for fun,” he said. 
“Of course somebody may have done it for a 
joke; but it seems like they would have made 
it plainer. Seems like they would have signed 
it with a whole name too, and not just an M. 
Folks would hardly bite at such blind bait as 
that.” 


TO CAMEL CAY 


207 


Jeppson mused a moment. 

‘‘ Well, maybe it was clear enough when it 
was written. M. now, could stand for Morgan, 
couldn’t it ? Everybody knew him in those days, 
and the story of the booty he took and buried. 
Why, that rascal got barrels of gold and silver, 
I reckon. It is strange, what became of it. But I 
don’t want to hunt for it myself. Might as well 
look for the ships he sunk out at sea, I think.” 

This was undoubtedly sound common sense, 
but by recalling the name of the famous pirate 
Jeppson closed Bob’s ears to everything but the 
insistent small voice within him. Morgan ! Why 
hadn’t he thought of him at once ? — the boldest, 
wildest rogue of all that predatory band. Barrels 
of gold and silver certainly had fallen into those 
bloody, greedy hands, and, as Jeppson said, what 
had become of them ? Buried some of them must 
have been, and why not on the lonely, outlying 
Camel Cay. Pirates had gathered there. They 
had given the cay its early name. Morgan, as 
well as the rest, must have shared in its fierce 
hunts and fiercer feasts, and what more natural 
than to bury his surplus there before taking to the 
perils of the sea again? 


2o8 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


Jeppson would have seen only folly in such 
imaginings, so Bob kept them to himself for the 
present. Jim would rise to them he knew, and 
Jim should share the treasure, if treasure there 
proved to be. 

The trip seemed endless. At last they emerged 
from the woods into the glare of Ordville, and 
dismounting from the wagon. Bob set out in 
search of Jim. He was not at home nor at his 
father’s hardware store. No one knew where 
he was till Bob met Rufus sauntering down the 
dusty road with a string of cat-fish. Rufus 
‘‘ ’lowed ” the missing one was busy at Brown’s 
pier; “An’ I ’spect he’s got dat ole wharf jus’ 
bending wid cats,” he added. 

“ I might have known he was there,” said Bob, 
smiling, and started for the pier, taking the short 
cut along the shore of the lagoon. 

The narrow strip of muddy sand was alive 
with black-breasted plover, willet and tattlers, but 
though they ran and wheeled before him within 
easy range. Bob felt no inclination to return to 
the bungalow for his gun. In fact he hardly 
heard their pipings, or observed their graceful 
evolutions on the wing, in which each flock veered 


TO CAMEL CAY 


20g 


and twisted as one bird. The mystery of the 
glass jar had taken firm hold of him. In imag- 
ination he was already on Camel Cay, digging 
for Morgan’s gold. 

At the anchorage by Brown’s pier were several 
bateaux. All but one had their sails furled, and 
Bob, familiar with the cut of every local boat, 
saw that this one was a stranger. She was a 
large craft with a narrow jib and a filthy main- 
sail. A couple of men were lolling in her cock- 
pit, but Bob could not distinguish their features. 
He gave them only a brief glance, and waved his 
hand at Jim who was sitting on the end of the 
pier, patiently bobbing his cat-fish line. 

I reckon he’ll lose interest in cats when he 
sees what I’ve got,” thought Bob. “ Jim’s enough 
of a sportsman to jump at a game like this.” 

Jim, indeed, jumped in more senses than one 
as Bob told his story. He let his line fall into 
the water, and leaping to his feet, joined Bob in 
the little shed when the latter produced the jar 
with a flourish. Side by side ’on the bench they 
bent over the yellowed bit of parchment. Jim’s 
tongue was in his cheek as his gaze devoured 
the writing, and his bare toes worked on the 


210 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

planking. There was nothing sceptical about Jim. 
He was positive that their fortunes were made. 
He wished to hear the story all over again, for 
in his first state of rapturous wonder his mind 
had not been able to linger delightfully on the 
various details. 

So Bob began his recital again, the parchment 
spread on his knee. He was interrupted by many 
questions from Jim, and at last brought it down 
to the talk between himself and Jeppson, when 
the warden had supplied the name of the writer 
of the pamphlet. 

It was Morgan, all right ! exclaimed Jim 
positively. ‘‘ The stuff’s there if we can find it, 
and we’ll start to-morrow, in the Emmie E/' 

A doubt suddenly clutched Bob. 

“ Perhaps it’s been found already,” he said, 
“ It’s years since Morgan put it there. Morgan, 
himself, Jim, may have gone back for it.” 

Jim’s enthusiasm was not to be dampened by 
any such supposition. 

“ I don’t believe it,” he declared stoutly. What 
would the bottle be kept for, then? You can bet 
that those old niggers knew more than what’s 
written here.” 


TO CAMEL CAY 


2II 


‘‘ It’s Strange they should have believed in it 
and never looked for it,” said Bob. 

Maybe they did,” replied Jim. ‘‘ A nigger’s 
stupid that way. Maybe they couldn’t read and 
only knew what was on the paper by hearsay. 
And whoever told ’em mixed it up more than 
likely, so the niggers never did know the right 
place to look.” 

It was impossible not to feel cheered by Jim’s 
stout confidence. 

‘‘ It’s reasonable,” mused Bob. “ Like as not 
it was just as you say. At any rate we’ll start 
to-morrow in the Emmie 

‘‘ Hurrah! ” cried Jim, tossing up his hat. 

It struck the roof and came down behind him, 
falling through the gap between the bench and 
the rear wall. Jim turned and thrust his hand 
down to recover it. As he did so a sudden shaft 
of sunlight streamed through a broad crack as 
if a shutter had been opened. Jim clapped his 
eye to the crack and instantly his round face 
sobered. 

“ Sh 1 ” he whispered, turning toward Bob. 

There’s a couple of fellows out there.” 

If there were eavesdroppers it was rather late 


212 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


to think of caution. The cat was out of the bag 
now. But Bob was hot inclined to take the thing 
seriously. 

‘‘ Come on,” he said. “ Let’s be going.” As 
Jim rose he added in a lower voice: '‘Take a 
look at them as we go out.” 

The men — there were two of them — were 
total strangers to Bob. They stood close to the 
thin wall of the shed, smoking their pipes in a 
matter-of-fact way, though both of them stared 
pretty hard at the boys. 

" They’re from that boat,” said Jim, as they 
passed out of hearing. He pointed to the craft 
Bob had previously noted. " Hard looking gang, 
I call ’em. Brown said they were turtlers from 
some place to the south’ard. Do you reckon they 
heard us? ” 

" No, I reckon not,” replied Bob. “ A word 
or so, maybe, but I’m not worrying.” 

The end of Brown’s pier was a common loung- 
ing spot for fishermen, and it was natural enough 
that the turtlers should walk out there for a 
glance up and down the lagoon. They had not 
looked " hard ” to Bob, and he thought no more 
of the incident at the moment. He walked back 


TO CAMEL CAY 


213 


with Jim, arranging the details of the trip, which 
in all probability would extend over several days. 
To be on the safe side they decided to take enough 
bacon, hardtack and coffee to last them a week. 
Fish and fowl could be counted on to add to the 
bill of fare whenever wanted. A pickaxe and 
shovel apiece were absolutely necessary, and a 
blanket to sleep in. With their guns, these would 
constitute the bulk of their baggage. 

‘‘ To-morrow at eight, then,” said Bob, when 
their plans had been completed. ‘‘ I shan’t sleep 
a wink. Jim, suppose we-all really find some- 
thing!” 

“Something!” cried Jim. “We’ll find gold. 
Bob! That’s the kind of something it’ll be.” 

His round face shone with earnestness. 

“ I hope those fellows didn’t hear,” he added. 
“ A gang like that would do anything for money.” 

“ Pooh ! ” laughed Bob. “ Get the money first, 
Jim.” 

“ When we get it,” said Jim, “ we’ll hold on 
to it, I reckon. I’ll meet you at eight with my 
kit.” 

Neither of the boys slept well that night. As 
soon as daylight came Bob, tired of inaction. 


214 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

dressed and gathered together his part of the 
equipment. Though it was not yet six o’clock 
he hastened toward Brown’s pier, thinking to 
have the boat in readiness by the time Jim ap- 
peared. 

Jim, however, had been even more restless. He 
was waiting at the wharf, and the Emmie’s spread 
sail and the neatness of her rigging testified as 
to his impatience. His own kit was stowed 
aboard, and as soon as Bob’s was put away, they 
hauled up the anchor and pointed the Emmie E/s 
nose down the lagoon. 

“ We’re off. Bob,” cried Jim exultantly. 
Hardly a word had been exchanged during the 
hurried embarkation. Now Jim’s spirits bubbled 
over. This is a great day,” he said. “ It’ll be 
a bigger one, though, when we come back.” 

“ We’ll see,” smiled Bob. ‘‘ We’ve got a fair 
wind anyway, and that’s a good omen. The 
Emmie’s a good boat before the wind.” 

The breeze was not strong but it was steady. 
There was little motion on the lagoon. The 
Emmie drew away from the fleet of fishing boats 
rapidly, and began to drop the cluster of white 
houses behind her. As she passed the southern 


TO CAMEL CAY 


215 


limit of the town Bob glanced back with a little 
thrill. How would he return? Ashamed of a 
foohs errand, or with pockets full of Spanish 
gold? At least, no one was in the secret, not 
even his family or Jim’s, and their failure, if they 
did fail, would not be common property. Jepp- 
son, of course, knew of the parchment, but in all 
probability would never think of it again. 

Just to make sure that their departure had not 
been noted. Bob looked back again. The gaff of 
one of the boats was jerkily ascending her mast. 
All the other craft lay bare and motionless, their 
noses cocked into the wind. The sail crawled 
up and swung out, revealing two long streaks of 
mildew from gaff to boom. 

“ Hm ! ” exclaimed Bob. Those turtlers are 
getting under way.” 

Jim frowned. 

“ I don’t like it,” he said uneasily. “ They 
heard us. Bob, you can be sure of that. You take 
my word for it, they’ll follow us.” 

“ Let ’em,” said Bob. “If they try to stick 
to us all day we’ll know what to expect. We’ll 
give them a run for it, anyway.” 

He drew in on the mainsheet and the Emmie E. 


2i6 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


swooped forward with more life. The dark 
green of the shore slipped by with reassuring 
quickness ; Ordville dropped out of sight behind, 
and by and by the sail of the turtler’s boat was 
lost in the pearly haze that hung over the water. 
The craft had not left her anchorage so far as 
the boys could see. 

Maybe they were only drying the saiV^ said 
Bob. The dew was thick as cream last night.” 

‘‘ What do they care about dew,” retorted Jim 
scornfully. Look at her ; all barnacles and 
mildew! When they hoist sail they’re going to 
get out. If they heard us talk they won’t be in 
any great hurry. They know where we’re going 
and that’s enough for them.” 

I don’t think they’d follow us if they did 
hear,” said Bob. ‘‘ It would seem like a wild- 
goose chase to them.” 

For six miles it was a straight reach down the 
lagoon; then the Emmie E. was brought about 
and headed on an eastward course, out among the 
reefs and mangrove covered islets that lay like 
green velvet against the rich purple of the water. 
Not a sail but their own was in sight. Flocks 
of gulls and terns, blindingly white in the sun, 







FLOCKS OF GULLS AND TERNS CIRCLED AROUND THEM 




TO CAMEL CAY 


219 


circled lazily round them. Long lines of ibises 
and herons rose from the island rookeries and 
drifted away like strings of gray and blue smoke. 
The beautiful and placid scene seemed to receive 
them with gentle confidence; but nature was not 
quite as trusting as she looked. Under the spark- 
ling waters she hid sharp-backed reefs and great 
shoals that lay as so many defences round the 
islets where her wild children nested. 

Fortunately the air was light or the Emmie E. 
would soon have found herself hard aground 
with miles of mud and water between her and 
Camel Cay. She touched often, but by quick 
work and an occasional use of the long sweeps 
the boys kept her slowly forging ahead, and the 
strangely humped island lay at last close abeam. 

It had a thin white beach and for the rest 
seemed all wooded. From where the boat lay 
no tree stood out above its neighbors. Branch 
locked with branch in an impenetrable union, and 
the leafy tops formed a uniform coverlet of 
green. 

“ How are we going to find the four palms 
among all those trees,’’ said Jim thoughtfully. I 
reckon we’ve got work ahead of us.” 


220 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

“We can tell better when we land/^ said Bob, 
but he, too, was disturbed by the uncompromis- 
ing aspect of the island. “ In the first place we 
must find some good place to hide the boat in 
case those turtlers do follow us. A little caution 
won’t do any harm.” 

To this Jim readily agreed, and the Emmie E. 
slowly skirted the island while the boys scruti- 
nized the shore for a favorable spot to anchor. 
A number of little coves and lagoons indented 
the cay, some narrow and deep, others mere scal- 
lops in the beach, and presently they passed the 
mouth of one that instantly appealed to them. 

The Emmie E. was put about and headed for 
the opening. It was so narrow that the boat 
had to be steered with the nicest care to avoid 
striking the limbs that stretched out over the dark 
water. Dense ranks of pine and palm and but- 
ton-wood stood on either bank, their branches 
heavy with orchids and other parasitic plants. 
Cactuses and broad ferns grew thick as grass 
among the tree trunks. It was dim and hushed 
and cool on the strange little stream, which 
wound about through the wood and seemed to 
penetrate to the heart of the island. 


TO CAMEL CAY 


221 


The entrance had disappeared; lost behind the 
rank foliage in which they were buried. The 
Emmie’s sail hung motionless in the windless 
place, and dropping it, the boys forced the boat 
ahead with the sweeps. It was warm work and 
they soon had enough of it. Satisfied that they 
were thoroughly screened they tossed the anchor 
over. It seemed to fall into the black water with 
a chuckle, and the noise of the rope rasping the 
Emmie’s bow was uncannily loud in the deathly 
silence of the spot. But the boys’ spirits were 
too high to yield to the gloom of the island. 

“ It isn’t too late to have a look over the place 
before dark,” said Bob. What do you say? ” 
Do you think I could sit here as if it was 
a doorstep!” exclaimed Jim. ‘'Of course we’ll 
take a look around. Bring the bottle along and 
I’ll carry my gun. We might pick up something 
good for supper.” 

It was only a few yards to either bank, and 
jumping into the tender they drove it ashore with 
a couple of strokes of the oars. Then tying her 
painter to a mangrove root and hiding the oars 
in a thicket, they began to force their way through 
the ferns and palmetto scrub toward the centre 


222 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


of the island. Of the two humps or hills that 
rose there the one to the north was considerably 
the higher and would undoubtedly afford them 
a better view. Accordingly the boys directed 
their course toward it, without stopping to ex- 
amine the woods by the way, for the sun was 
low and they wished to get back to the Emmie E, 
before dark. 

It was not long before they realized that this 
would be impossible. The distance to the hump 
was greater than they had estimated, and the 
going much harder. The ferns and scrub were 
dense and tall, and several times they were 
obliged to cross swampy stretches where muck 
and water lay knee deep, and the sprawling knees 
of the mangroves tripped them at every step. 
Venomous moccasins hissed at them from the 
clumps of grass rising above the water, and the 
fear of a close encounter with one of the hideous 
reptiles made them proceed with the greatest 
caution. 

At last the wet, lower portion of the island 
was passed, and the ground began to rise before 
them. The soil rapidly grew dryer and firmer 
and the undergrowth sparser. The trees stood 


TO CAMEL CAY 


223 


much farther apart and wide patches of sky 
could be seen between their tops. As they 
mounted the last sharp rise they saw that the 
summit itself was almost bare, an oval of coarse 
grass about two hundred feet long, and that the 
eastern slope was not half so heavily wooded 
as the side by which they had come. A narrow 
strip just back of the beach, however, was thick 
with trees, and as they looked down a great con- 
course of birds suddenly rose from them and 
streamed off to the south with clanging cries. 

“ It's almost sundown,” said Bob. “We can't 
get back before dark and I don't fancy walking 
among those moccasins at night. I vote we go 
down this side of the hill and walk round by the 
beach. It's a little longer but it's open going.'' 

“ I'd rather walk twice the distance than go 
back through those swamps in the dark,'' agreed 
Jim. “ I wish we had time to do a bit of hunt- 
ing for those palms.'' 

That was plainly out of the question, however. 
The lower rim of the sun had touched the sea 
in the west and already the quick, semi-tropical 
dusk was gathering round them. It was impor- 
tant that they should gain the beach before the 


224 by reef and trail 

sun set, for there would be no twilight as in 
the north, and night would be upon them at once. 

Without further delay the boys began to de- 
scend the eastern slope. It was a comparatively 
easy task for the ground was clear and firm, and 
its slant helped them to keep a rapid pace. 

I reckon this was where the cattle used to 
browse in the old times,” remarked Bob, thought- 
fully. ‘‘ There’s good feed here, and none on the 
other side. It makes me think that this is where 
we want to look for our marks.” 

Jim stopped short and looked round in a sud- 
den excitement. 

‘‘ You’ve struck it, Bob,” he exclaimed, almost 
solemnly. ‘‘ You never made a better guess than 
that in your life. The cattle must have fed here, 
and the buccaneers would have camped as near 
’em as possible. This is the side toward the sea, 
too, and that’s another reason why they would 
have chosen it. It’s my opinion we needn’t con- 
sider the other side of the island at all.” 

We’ll bring the Emmie round to-morrow and 
tuck her into one of the coves,” said Bob. “ I 
think I’m right. At any rate we can’t do better 
than work over this side first.” 


TO CAMEL CAY 


225 


Filled with enthusiasm they crossed the space 
between them and the strip of woods back of the 
beach in quick time. The sun was more than 
half down. As they entered the thick growth of 
trees they lost what little light the sky still held, 
and it was almost necessary to feel their way 
along. Instinctively Jim allowed Bob, who car- 
ried the gun, to lead, but he kept close upon his 
heels. So close that when Bob suddenly paused 
the two boys collided forcibly. 

“What is it?’' asked Jim in a tense whis- 
per. 

“ There’s water ahead,” said Bob. “ A sort 
of a lagoon, I reckon, like the one where we left 
the Emmief* 

Jim breathed a sigh of obvious relief. 

“ Oh ! is that all. Don’t scare a fellow for 
nothing.” 

“ We’ll have to work round the edge of it,” 
said Bob, and went forward again, feeling his 
way among the arched mangrove roots. 

Jim stumbled along behind, his head cocked 
to catch the warning hiss of any moccasin that 
might lie in their path. His spirits rose as they 
neared the beach, and he began to hum Dixie; 


226 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

but before he had finished the second verse a 
hand was clapped across his mouth. 

‘‘ S-sh ! ” said Bob. “ Keep still.” 

‘‘What is it? More water?” mumbled Jim 
against the hand. 

“ Look out there ! ” said Bob. 

His voice was low and imperative. Jim’s eyes 
followed Bob’s outstretched arm and saw through 
the trees the pale, metallic sheen of the little 
lagoon on which a vague black blot rested. As he 
gazed this took on a familiarity of outline, and 
shadow separated itself from substance. It was a 
boat. Who manned it, and what was it doing at 
this lonely cay which had no attractions for any- 
one except an occasional band of plume-hunters? 
And the nesting season was over and neither 
snowy heron nor egret now wore the ornamental 
feathers so ruthlessly sought. 

As if to answer Jim’s outspoken question a 
match suddenly spurted on board the boat. Some 
one touched a loose roll of paper to it, and a 
broad yellow flame sprang up and shed such a 
radiance into the dark that Bob and Jim shrank 
behind a tree. The man with the blazing paper 
leisurely lighted the wicks of a couple of Ian- 


TO CAMEL CAY 


227 


terns, quite unconscious of the revelation he was 
making. The boat was so near the bank that 
every detail of her was distinct, and the features 
and dress of two of the four men were clearly 
revealed. Then the fellow with the paper tossed 
it overboard, and in the dim glow of the lanterns 
the figures sank to formless shapes. But the 
boys had seen enough. 

‘‘ It’s the turtlers! ” breathed Jim. “ They’ve 
followed us.” 

They must have overheard us after all,” said 
Bob gravely. I can’t imagine any other reason 
for their coming here. I’m afraid we’re going 
to have some trouble.” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 

‘‘ What shall we do? ” asked Jim anxiously. 

Bob considered a minute. 

“ Well,” he said, “ we came here to look for 
that treasure. That’s our job. We must find it, 
and be so careful about it that these fellows won’t 
suspect we’re working under their noses. I’m 
glad now we left the Emmie on the other side. 
They’ll never find her there, I’m sure, and that 
gives us an advantage we may need.” 

“ Then the only thing to do is to go ahead — 
and keep out of trouble if we can,” said Jim. 

That’s it. I’m not going to worry till I 
know just what there is to worry about. These 
fellows may be peaceable, though I doubt it. 
We’ll sure give them a wide berth. I reckon 
we’d better go back and get some sleep now, so 
we can get an early start in the morning.” 

The boys were up before the sun the next day, 
228 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 229 

and after a hasty breakfast they set out for 
the hill. Bob carried old Bess and a pickaxe, 
while Jim took the shovel and his gun. Thus 
burdened it was not an easy matter to thread the 
heavy thickets in the dark, but the fact that they 
had been over the ground before was of much 
service to them. They made good time in spite 
of their awkward implements and reached the 
drier slope of the hill before sunrise. 

Jim was so well fagged that he wanted to rest 
on the spot, but Bob was anxious to reach the 
summit. Up they toiled, panting and soaked in 
perspiration. It was choking hot under the trees ; 
but as they topped the rise a cool wind from the 
east blew refreshingly upon them. They threw 
themselves down on the bare grass too tired to 
speak, their faces upturned to the paling sky. 

It seemed only a minute when dawn came with 
a sudden flaming of red in the east, and they 
could hear the herons below them croak guttur- 
ally as they left the rookeries. Bob sat up and 
grasped his gun. 

Let’s get at it,” he said. ‘‘ We can hide the 
shovel and pickaxe here till we need them. We’d 
better keep together at first.” 


230 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


They stood up and studied their surroundings. 
The top of the hill was as bare as a board. Its 
western slope they had agreed to leave unexplored 
at present. On the east the wood was much more 
open; little groups of trees were scattered about, 
and in the clear places a few fern tufts grew, but 
there were many spaces bare of everything except 
grass. 

Starting down the right side of the slope the 
boys moved slowly along, studying the tree 
clumps. When they reached the belt of wood 
that covered the low bottom lands they made a 
wide turn and ascended the hill till they reached 
the crest again. Then they descended as before. 
Thus they zig-zagged up and down the slope, 
avoiding the open stretches as much as possible. 
Not a tree escaped their notice, but Morgan’s 
grove,” as they now called the four palms of the 
scroll, did not materialize. There were single 
palms in plenty, and groups of anywhere from 
six to a score. A group of four palms only there 
was not, however. 

Noon was at hand and hot and somewhat dis- 
couraged they sat down in the shade of a small 
pine to eat the lunch they had brought with them. 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 


231 


They were on the lower edge of the slope facing 
the heavy wood that separated them from the 
beach. The lagoon in which the turtlers had 
anchored lay a quarter of a mile off to the south, 
and as the boys were well screened by a thicket 
of ferns they disposed themselves to rest and eat 
in comfort. 

They were half through their lunch when a 
little blue heron came flapping and squawking out 
of the woods and passed directly over them. 
While he was still in sight another appeared, and 
under him a blue cloud of birds lifted with loud 
cries. 

“ Something’s frightened them,” exclaimed 
Bob. ‘‘ Get down in these ferns, Jim, and keep 
a sharp lookout.” 

Peering through the green fronds they saw a 
man step out of the wood and glance cautiously 
up the hillside. He was hatless and the sun shone 
directly in his face, illuminating his ragged tow 
hair and causing his broad tanned nose to gleam 
like polished oak. It was the man who had lit 
the lanterns the night before. There was no mis- 
taking him. 

After a few moments spent in scrutinizing the 


232 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

hill he gave a clear, birdlike whistle. This he 
presently repeated, and then drawing a pipe from 
his pocket he began to cram its bowl with tobacco. 
But before he finished his three companions 
emerged from the wood behind him, and one of 
them, creeping stealthily up, knocked the pipe 
from his hand, crying out with a hoarse laugh : 

“A nice scout you are, Mack! If your eyes 
ain’t any better than your ears we’ll have to look 
for the kids ourselves.” 

The tow-headed man seemed about to make an 
angry rejoinder, but thought better of it and 
picked up his pipe. 

“I’ve looked around enough to see that they 
ain’t here,” he said gruffly. “ Find any signs 
of ’em?” 

“ Nary a sign,” said one of the others, a tall 
man with a white handkerchief round his neck. 
“ If I hadn’t heard ’em myself I’d say this was 
a waste of time, but what we heard was plain 
enough, wasn’t it, Joe? ” 

Joe was the man who had performed the play- 
ful feat with the pipe. He was bull-necked and 
long-armed, and of the four his countenance was 
decidedly the most vicious. Bob wondered that 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 233 

he had not noticed his hang-dog face on Brown’s 
pier. 

“ Plain ! ” snorted Joe. “ You’d have said so 
if you’d been where we was, Mack. Camel Cay 
was the place they named, and no mistake, and 
we saw ’em sail for here yesterday. Only this 
place is so full of holes and pockets you could 
hide a fleet of boats here.” 

“What seems funny to me,” said the fourth 
man, who had hitherto listened in silence, “ is that 
hearing so much about the gold and Morgan and 
Camel Cay, you heard so little about where the 
stuff was buried. That’s what seems funny to 
me.” 

He thrust his thumbs in his belt as he finished, 
and favored his companions with a stare that did 
not betray much amusement. 

“ That’s so, Eben,” said Mack. “ They cuss 
other people’s ears and eyes, and don’t half use 
they own, so far’s I can see. Why was it you 
didn’t hear the important parts, Raf e ? ” 

He looked at the tall man with the handker- 
chief round his neck, but the fellow, who had a 
certain jauntiness about him, shrugged his shoul- 
ders lightly. 


234 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


** Didn’t I tell you they had that writ down 
on a piece of paper?” he said. ''They were 
looking at it with their heads close together. I 
could see that through a crack in the boards, but 
I didn’t know what was on it because they didn’t 
read it out loud. Perhaps if they’d known I was 
there they’d have obliged me by doing so.” 

" Well,” said Eben harshly, " we’ve got to get 
hold of those kids, that’s plain. And standing 
here talking like parrots won’t do it. Spread out 
now, boys, and we’ll beat the side of this hill.” 

The plan seemed congenial to all of them. 
Without another word they separated and ad- 
vanced toward the hill in a line, the tall man on 
the extreme left. Mack and Joe in the middle, 
and Eben on the right. With fast-beating hearts 
the boys saw that the latter was headed directly 
for the patch of ferns in which they lay. In a 
few minutes he must inevitably run upon them, 
but to retreat seemed almost as dangerous as to 
remain where they were. The ferns, unfortu- 
nately, were an isolated group, shaded by half a 
dozen pines. On every side the ground was more 
or less open. 

“ I think we’d better run for it,” whispered 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 235 

Bob. “We’re bound to be seen sooner or later, 
and the bigger start we have the better. If we 
can make those trees over on the left we’ll have 
good cover.” 

Jim was shaking with excitement, but his pluck 
was undiminished. 

“ Come on,” he said. “ I’m ready. At any 
rate we’ve got guns and they haven’t.” 

They crept to the edge of the thicket. 

“ Keep right round the hill,” advised Bob, 
“ and head for the Emmie. If we have to sep- 
arate we’ll meet there. Now ! ” 

The bull-necked Eben was close to the oppo- 
site edge of the thicket as the boys dashed out. 
For a moment he was too startled to utter a 
sound, but when he did find his voice he raised 
it in a bellow that reverberated against the hill, 
and brought his companions up on a run. They 
saw their quarry darting across the open and grew 
as noisy as a pack of hounds. 

“ They won’t have much wind left if they keep 
that up,” said Bob, glancing back. 

The turtlers were strung out behind them in a 
ragged line, with Eben well in the lead. He was 
running fast, but not with the long, steady stride 


236 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

that tells in a stern chase. He had hoped to run 
the boys down in one fierce rush, and now he 
was coming on head down and arms thrashing, 
expending more energy than he should have. Bob 
decided that there was nothing to fear from him, 
but Rafe, the long-legged man, looked dangerous. 
He had already passed Mack and Joe, and was 
rapidly overhauling Eben. 

“ Put on a little more speed if you can, Jim,” 
cried Bob. We’ll drop them all right in the 
woods.” 

“ Sure,” panted Jim. “ Come on.” 

The ground over which they were running was 
too open to afford them any cover, though there 
were a number of trees scattered about. A quar- 
ter of a mile ahead were visible the first spurs 
of the heavy western woods, creeping round the 
northern end of the hill. If they could gain these 
Bob felt sure that they could escape from the 
turtlers, but the spurs looked a long way off and 
the ground was growing rougher with every 
stride. 

The turtlers, who were neither as young nor 
sound of wind as the pursued, soon showed the 
effects of the hot chase. Joe and Eben had 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 


237 


dropped so far back that they were practically 
out of the race. Mack was plowing sturdily 
along, but there was no spring to his stride. Rafe 
alone had not lost an inch. If anything he had 
gained upon the boys, and his long legs were 
swinging easily and his face was set in a sneer- 
ing smile. It was evident that he knew how to 
run, and had considerable energy in reserve. It 
was Rafe whom they had most to fear. 

Bob was not greatly alarmed concerning him- 
self, but the way Jim was panting began to 
frighten him. In spite of his confidence Jim 
was not holding the pace. His face was com- 
mencing to look drawn, and his open lips were 
rigid. Now and then he stumbled. 

Only a little way farther, cried Bob en- 
couragingly. ‘‘ We’ll be safe when we strike the 
woods.” 

He was far from feeling as brave as his words, 
however. He glanced back and a thrill of alarm 
shot through him. Rafe was much nearer than 
before. The sneer on his lips was more pro- 
nounced, and it was plain he had noticed Jim’s 
condition. In fact he seemed to think victory 
was within reach, for he suddenly dropped his 


238 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

methodical stride and plunged forward in a fierce 
spurt. 

Before Bob could make up his mind how to 
meet this charge, the thing was over. The tall 
man’s foot encountered a protruding root and he 
crashed forward on his face with sickening vio- 
lence. The quickness with which he rose testified 
to his grit, but one step was all he could take. He 
uttered an oath and, stooping, clapped his hands 
to his wrenched ankle. 

“ We’re all right now, Jim,” cried Bob exult- 
antly. “No need to break your heart over it.” 

Then something startlingly unexpected hap- 
pened. Rafe whipped a pistol from his hip pocket 
and fired point-blank at the boys. Fortunately 
his hand was unsteady from the effects of his 
run and the hard fall, but even then the bullet 
whirred unpleasantly hear Bob’s head, and a thun- 
der-clap from a clear sky could not have startled 
Jim more. 

At the sharp report he stumbled and almost fell. 
If Bob had not heard the bullet whistle by he 
would have believed that Jim was wounded. He 
had him by the arm in a minute, sustaining him 
and urging him forward. It was more neces- 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 239 

sary now than ever that they should reach the 
woods. 

Seeing their leader resort to extreme measures 
the rest of the turtlers followed suit. Every one 
of the rascals had a revolver, and a fusilade of 
shots rang out while bullets hummed round the 
boys like great bees. Now they were glad indeed 
of the thickets of tall ferns. Plunging into the 
nearest they ran with heads lowered, the green 
fronds waving about their shoulders. 

They were close to the first tongue of wood 
now. Its black aisles, choked with scrub, seemed 
the most attractive spot on earth to them. With 
a final burst of speed they reached the shade flung 
forward by the outermost branches. The moist 
coolness of the wood closed round them, and still 
they ran on, staggering, slipping, drunk with 
weariness. 

At last Jim could go no further. He dropped 
his gun and sank at the foot of a tree, gasping 
for breath. Bob was not much better off, but he 
stood listening for some moments, ready to keep 
on if necessary. He heard no sound, however, 
except the rapid thumping of his heart. For the 
moment they were safe, and the clumsy turtlers 


240 BY REEF ’AND TRAIL 

could not approach them through the scrub with- 
out giving some warning. 

I reckon it’s the wisest thing we can do — 
to rest awhile,” he said, and sat down by Jim’s 
side. 

“ Do you think those fellows meant to kill us ? ” 
asked Jim. 

It looked like it,” said Bob. They’re the 
lowest of white trash, and vicious and ignorant 
enough to do anything. Who would know it if 
they did, off on this out-of-the-way place? We’ve 
got to be mighty careful now, Jim. We don’t 
want to be cornered, but if we are I reckon we 
must do some firing ourselves.” 

‘‘ I reckon so,” said Jim, thoughtfully, but 
I hope we won’t have to. Do you think we 
ought to stay here any longer ? ” 

No,” said Bob. “ We’d better work round 
to the western side. We’ll be safer there.” 

He rose and stretched himself. 

‘‘ That’s a strange palm,” he said, looking at 
the one against which Jim was leaning. “ See 
those queer swellings ! And one side of it’s been 
blazed deep. They all look about a thousand 
years old. I never saw such big ones.” 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 


241 


“ Hullo ! ” he added sharply. There are four 
of them! Jim, four palms!” 

Jim leaped to his feet. 

“ One, two, three,” he counted aloud. Then 
with a hushed voice: Four! ” 

‘‘ And no more ! ” cried Bob. “ See, they stand 
like the corners of a square. And theyVe been 
standing for years and years. All this trash in 
the middle has grown up since.” 

Excitedly he began to walk round the square, 
examining the trees. 

‘‘ It’s just as I thought,” he said presently. 
“ TheyVe been blazed. Do you know what that 
means, Jim?” 

“ It means that this is Morgan’s grove,” said 
Jim, solemnly. 

The boys looked at each other, almost in awe. 
The spirit of the dead buccaneer seemed to hover 
over the spot. The croak of a passing heron 
made both of them jump, and glance nervously 
round. But as the bird passed all was still again 
in the damp, sunless woods. Somehow this ab- 
solute stillness had never seemed so uncanny 
before. 

They drew together, speaking in whispers, as 


242 REEF AND TRAIL 

if unseen listeners might be crouching in the 
thicket round them. 

Four hundred yards to the northeast/’ said 

Bob. 

He produced his little pocket compass, and held 
it in his palm, but his hand shook so that the 
needle danced like a live thing. 

Pshaw ! ” he said. Pm as nervous as a 
minnow.” 

He pressed the side of his hand against one of 
the trees, and the little blue-black needle slowly 
steadied into place, its thin point toward the 
north. 

“ Fix the line to this tree,” he said. “ Hurry, 
Jim! It would never do to let those fellows find 
us now.” 

Jim pulled a big tarpon reel from his pocket. 
There were six hundred yards of tough silk fish- 
ing-line wound on its axle, and every ten feet 
was marked by a ring of red ink. Its loose end 
was fastened to a stout tack, which Jim drove 
into the north side of the palm with the butt of 
his gun. Then, with Bob in advance, compass 
in hand, they slowly and silently started through 
the wood. The low click of the big reel as the 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 


243 

line ran out sounded to them as loud as the blows 
of a trip-hammer. 

They had not gone many yards when they per- 
ceived that the spur of wood was very narrow. 
The trees and scrub grew scarcer, and the sun- 
light came pouring down in broad shafts. Very 
soon they saw a strip of bare, grassy ground 
ahead, and beyond that the beach, its white sands 
shining like silver against the intense blue of the 
water. 

“ Three hundred and fifty feet,” announced Jim 
in hushed tones. “ Only fifty feet more. Bob.” 

Excited as they were the boys now walked as 
softly and slowly as if they expected the ground 
to yawn under their feet. Each step was taken 
more reluctantly than the last, while their eyes 
roamed swiftly round, searching for something 
that would suggest a natural terminus of the 
line, but compelled to follow the slim, pointing 
needle. And when Jim cried out: Four hun- 
dred feet ! ” it found them standing in a little 
open spot between the scattered trees. The sandy 
soil about them was flat and thinly covered by 
coarse grass. No stump or stake protruded from 
the level surface. 


244 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


They looked at each other blankly for a mo- 
ment. Both were conscious now that they had 
been expecting to reach some definite guide-post 
or mark which would assure them that they were 
on the right course. 

Well,” said Bob, swallowing his disappoint- 
ment. '‘We must mark this spot if Morgan 
didn’t.” 

He broke the stems from three or four fallen 
palm leaves and thrust them into the soil at Jim’s 
feet. On the upright stakes he impaled the great, 
tough leaves, and the whole made a landmark 
that could not well be overlooked. 

" I don’t see any live-oak,” said Jim, who had 
been staring toward the north during these oper- 
ations. " I don’t see anything but palms and a 
couple of butt on- woods. An old live-oak would 
show his head if there was any round here.” 

" It ought to show,” agreed Bob, and swept 
his eyes slowly over the thin woods before them. 
" But I’ll be shot if it does.” 

“We must be on the right trail so far,” said 
Jim. “ There couldn’t be two groves like that, 
and the four trees were all blazed too.” 

Bob nodded emphatically. 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 


245 


“ That was Morgan’s grove all right,” he as- 
serted. ‘‘ I feel sure of it. And we’ve come 
northeast four hundred yards by the compass. 
That live-oak is somewhere and we must find it.” 

“ But suppose the turtlers follow us up,” said 
Jim. “ I don’t fancy playing target again.” 

‘‘ We’ve got to take some risk in this,” said 
Bob. “ And I don’t think they’ll bother us just 
now. They know we can outrun them, espe- 
cially since their best man wrenched his leg. 
They’ll try to ambush us, I think, and we must 
keep our eyes open. What do you say? Shall 
we give it up or take the risk? ” 

Jim scratched his nose with a wry smile. 

I’m not a quitter, old chap,” he said. I’ll 
hunt for that stuff till my shoes are worn out, 
but I wish the turtlers were in Kansas just the 
same.” 

So do I,” said Bob. You take the compass, 
and old Bess and I’ll look out for ’em. If it 
comes down to shooting I reckon she’ll have a 
word to say this time. With BBs she can bite 
as well as bark.” 

The very thinness of the woods at this point 
was in their favor, for though it might reveal 


246 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

them to spying eyes, it provided no cover through 
which the turtlers could stalk them. In this 
stretch it was an easy matter, too, to mark the 
various trees, and there was no live-oak among 
them. There was still the heavier growth ahead, 
and towards this they directed their steps. 

Half an hour’s search along the course indi- 
cated by the compass brought no satisfactory 
results and they were a long distance from their 
starting point. In fact further progress toward 
the north would be of no value as the land be- 
yond dropped sharply toward the shore, and no 
tree growing on the slope could be seen from 
the mark Bob had constructed. They concluded, 
therefore, to work back again, extending their 
search through the woods on either side of the 
line on which they had come. 

This time they separated, though keeping 
within hail of each other. Half way back 
Jim raised a joyful shout, that was broken off 
abruptly. When Bob ran up, he was standing 
with his arm dramatically pointing at the object 
that had roused his enthusiasm. 

It was a live-oak in truth, and as dead and 
wormy as a piece of aged driftwood. A ruck 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 


247 


of fallen branches lay round its massive trunk. 
What had once been the giant of the island was 
now a broken, leafless thing, whose thick stubs 
were lower than the surrounding tree-tops. In 
Morgan’s day the great oak must have been a 
conspicuous landmark. That it was the tree 
they sought the boys had no doubt. So far as 
they had seen it was the only one of its kind on 
the island. 

“ It’s off the course, as we made it,” said Bob. 

But that’s not strange. Now the thing to do, it 
seems to me, is to lay a course straight south 
from here. It will intersect our line from the 
four palms to our marker somewhere. That 
ought to give us the truest point we can get.” 

I’ll point her south,” said Jim, compass in 
hand. “ There, she’s on the mark. Straight 
now as the crow flies.” 

They had no detours to make or thickets to 
force. It was easy to follow the course, and soon 
they were back again in the park-like open where 
their marker lay. This was not so far out of 
the way as they had supposed. They struck the 
fish-line a few yards beyond it, and drove a 
stake to mark the point of intersection. 


248 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

This is as near as we can come to it,” said 
Bob. It's pretty rough measuring, but it may 
be near enough. Now for the one hundred yards 
east.” 

But an unforeseen difficulty arose immediately. 
They were on the extreme eastern edge of the 
point of wood. A few steps would carry them 
into the treeless, grassy strip above the beach, to 
which it was plain the last measurement must 
take them. The treasure, then, was buried in the 
sand of the beach, where it would be folly to 
dig for it in broad daylight. Such a proceeding 
would inevitably bring the turtlers down upon 
them, and the rascals would have all the advan- 
tage of the ground. 

There was nothing for it but to hide in one of 
the nearby thickets until the sun set. First they 
climbed the hill after the pickaxe and shovel. 
There was no sign of the turtlers either on land 
or sea, and a strong uneasiness began to take 
possession of the boys at this mysterious disap- 
pearance of the enemy. It seemed to forebode 
a plot of some consequence, and on their return 
trip down the slope they crept from shadow to 
shadow, their guns held in a position of readiness. 


THE RIVAL SEEKERS 249 

'Nothing happened, and entering the thicket 
they had chosen they settled down to await the 
setting of the sun. Fortunately for their patience 
it was not far off. Presently the nighthawks 
appeared, sweeping above the tree-tops with their 
strange twanging cries. The light faded in the 
west and bats began to scurry about. Cranes 
and herons and egrets came flocking back to the 
rookeries, and as darkness fell a profound silence 
enclosed the island. 

Like wild rabbits the boys crawled out of the 
thicket and looked cautiously round in the pale 
starlight. While Jim held his hat over the com- 
pass Bob studied it by the light of a match, and 
when their direction was clear they stole out 
across the open almost on hands and knees. 
Luckily there was no air stirring. Jim kept the 
matches burning so that the compass was never 
in darkness, and by and by they felt sand grind 
under their feet and knew they were on the 
beach. Bob had tied a hundred yards of line to 
the stake and this now came taut in his hand. 
They had reached the end of the course. If their 
rough reckoning was right Morgan's gold lay 
under them. 


250 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


They marked the spot with their hats weighted 
with sand, and returned for the implements. 
They were too excited to speak. With pick and 
shovel they fell to work, digging as if their lives 
depended on it. The light sand flew and sweat 
ran down their faces. The turtlers were com- 
pletely forgotten. 

The place was well above the usual high water 
mark, and lay close to a steepish bank. As the 
moon rose and poured its light upon the beach 
Bob noted this bank with growing interest. Its 
face was abrupt and ragged, and large lumps 
that had fallen from it lay on the beach. 

‘‘ Jim,” cried Bob, suddenly. ‘‘ Some big 
storm has hit this end of the island, and the 
water has eaten off the top of the beach. Before 
that it was several feet higher where we are 
standing. Don’t you see, Jim! 

Yes, I see,” said Jim, leaning on the pick. 

What of it?” 

‘‘ Why, this,” said Bob excitedly. It’s saved 
us a heap of digging down. It’s shovelled away 
at least four feet for us, and if it hasn’t swept 
the treasure away entirely, the stuff can’t be 
far below the surface. Instead of digging a deep 





9 9 


FELL ON HIS KNEES AND DUG WITH BARE HANDS 





THE RIVAL SEEKERS 253 

hole at this one spot we can dig a shallow one that 
will cover ten times the space. See ! 

Sure,” said Jim, and stepped out of the hole 
they had been excavating. We’ll leave this well 
and spread ourselves.” 

Using the hole as the centre of a circle they 
carried their operations over a wide area. Sud- 
denly Bob, who was digging close under the 
bank, uttered a sharp ejaculation. 

IVe struck something,” he said. 

‘‘ Something? ” exclaimed Jim, in a voice that 
quivered. What does it feel like ? Don’t stand 
there dumb as a clam. What does it feel like? ” 

‘‘ Wood,” said Bob. '' It may be a bit of drift 
but it sounds — it sounds sort of hollow.” 

Jim ran up, the pick raised high over his head, 
and brought it down with all his force at the 
spot where Bob’s shovel was embedded. There 
was an audible dull sound of breaking wood, 
and Jim fell on his knees, scratching the sand 
away with his bare hands. Bob, more calm, 
pushed him aside. 

‘‘ Let me use the shovel,” he said. “ I’ll have 
it out, whatever it is, in no time.” 

It was hardly two feet below the surface, a 


254 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


rectangular box with the pick fast in its lid, across 
which stretched three iron bands, one broken in 
halves, the others so eaten with rust that a blow 
with the shovel shattered them. The wood was 
in a condition nearly as bad. The splintered 
lid was soon forced open. On their knees they 
wrenched it off and flung it on the beach„ Then 
they bent forward, almost sick with excitement. 

The moonlight fell full on the contents of the 
box. Tarnished as the stuff was there was no 
mistaking it. It’s shape and the clink of it as 
they thrust their hands in spelled the magic words. 
The box was full of silver and gold. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE TREASURE 

Bob paused with his hands buried among the 
coins. 

“ What was that ? ” he asked sharply. 

‘‘What?” said Jim. “Did you hear any- 
thing?” 

“ I’ll swear I did. A low whistle like.” 

“ A sandpiper,” scoffed Jim, but he spoke 
under his breath and glanced apprehensively 
toward the shadowed land. 

“ We left our guns in the ferns,” said Bob, 
“ fools that we were. There it goes again ! ” 

Jim scooped up a handful of the coins and 
dropped them into one of the pockets of his coat. 
His teeth were chattering.” 

“ They’re around us ! ” he cried. “ I feel ’em. 
Quick, Bob! ” 

Four frantic hands clutched at the gold and 
silver. Clumsy from fear and haste they spilled 
half what they seized. Jim was almost sob- 
255 


2 $6 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

bing, but his hands flew back and forth with 
greedy rapidity. The sense of imminent danger 
shook them. In the blackness that lay upon the 
land they knew there were eyes watching them, 
evil bodies creeping toward them as they knelt 
there unarmed ; but the magic of the buccaneer’s 
gold held them in spite of themselves. 

Then what they had been expecting happened. 
There was a rapid thud of feet. Black shapes 
came charging down the bank, terrifying in their 
silence. If the boys had not been in a measure 
forewarned they would certainly have been caught 
on the spot, but now they wasted no time in 
confusion. 

‘‘ Up the beach ! ” cried Bob, and sped along 
the one avenue of retreat with Jim close beside 
him. 

The turtlers sprang from the bank. For a 
moment they seemed in doubt as to what to do 
when a shout from the foremost one brought 
them running to the uncovered box. All four 
fell upon it like wild beasts on a bone, and their 
shouts of exultation rang along the beach. 

‘‘Oh, Bob!” wailed Jim. “To think that 
those fellows should get our treasure ! ” 


THE TREASURE 


257 

“ They might have had us too,” said Bob. It's 
lucky they found the box. We’ll have time 
enough to get away with what we have now, and 
my pockets are pretty full.” 

The boys indeed were so heavily weighted with 
coins that a fast pace was impossible. But Jim 
was torn with unsatisfied cupidity. 

We must have left half of it,” he panted 
disconsolately. And there may have been other 
boxes. I know there were other boxes. Morgan 
wouldn’t have taken all that trouble over one 
small one like that.” 

“ Let’s get away with what we have,” repeated 
Bob. ‘ A bird in the hand is worth two in the 
bush.’ ” 

Jim could not deny the truth of it, especially 
under the circumstances. They were two un- 
armed boys against four armed men whose nat- 
ural depravity was roused by the sight of gold 
to a pitch that would drive them to any villainous 
deed. With a deep sigh of regret Jim relinquished 
all thoughts of reprisal at present. 

The beach was not the safest course for them, 
and as soon as they had put a fair distance be- 
tween them and the turtlers they turned inland 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


258 

and plunged into the woods. Here it was so 
pitch dark they could not see one foot before their 
noses, and they were obliged to skirt along the 
edge to get what moonlight they could. There 
was no danger of getting lost. All they had to 
do was to hold a course parallel to the shore and 
it would eventually bring them to the lagoon 
where the Emmie lay. 

After an hour’s wearisome tramping they 
reached the lagoon, and stepping into the tender, 
paddled her across to the Emmie, who lay in so 
profound a darkness on the narrow, tree-shad- 
owed stream that anyone unacquainted with her 
presence there would never have seen her. The 
strip of canvas flung tent- wise over the boom 
was in place as they had left it that morning. 
Drawing the edges closely together so that no 
ray could escape they lighted the lantern, and 
tumbled the contents of their pockets on the 
cock-pit floor. 

Bob had spent an hour with the dictionary the 
evening before they sailed, and in the heap before 
them he felt sure of the identity of two coins, 
the big doubloon and the piece of eight. It 
was surprising to see how much the pockets of 


THE TREASURE 


259 


their shooting coats could hold. The pile was 
an impressive one and the gold doubloons far out- 
numbered the other coins. The value of the 
silver could only be guessed at, and after much 
counting and figuring Bob placed a rough esti- 
mate of two thousand dollars upon their spoils. 
The magnitude of the sum made them gasp. 

‘‘ A thousand dollars apiece, Jim! ” cried Bob. 
‘‘We can help the folks at home and set up as 
fishermen for ourselves.’’ 

“ It’ll be our start in life,” said Jim with shin- 
ing eyes. 

“ And we mustn’t forget King,” added Bob. 
“ We’ll see that his little girl has all she needs.” 

Jim nodded. 

“ I can’t help wishing we had the rest of it,” 
he said. “ Not just for ourselves, but we could 
do a lot with it. It’s ours by rights for the 
secret was given to you, and it was we who found 
it. Those turtlers are just thieves, and what good 
will the money do them? It will go for rum 
and gambling stakes, that’s all.” 

Bob began to sweep the pile of coins into the 
burlap bag which had held their provisions. 

“ It’s my idea that we haven’t seen the last 


26 o by reef and trail 

of those fellows yet,” he said. We’ll tuck this 
under the planking forward and stow ballast over 
it. Somehow I can’t seem to think clearly while 
the stuff is in sight.” 

When this was done Bob insisted that they 
eat supper before they discussed the matter fur- 
ther. Impatient as Jim was he had to yield to 
the other’s firmer will. Grumbling and fidgetting 
he fooled with the food till Bob was through. 

Now,” he said. “ Tell me what we are going 
to do. I for one don’t want to go back without 
a try for the rest of Morgan’s treasure.” 

‘‘ Nor I,” said Bob, “ but we have got two 
thousand dollars and mustn’t risk that or our 
skins foolishly. And I want to get old Bess 
back too. I should never care for another gun 
as I do for her. 

“ I’ve been thinking that we might run the 
Emmie out to-night,” he added, and put her in 
some cove near where those fellows are. Prob- 
ably they have scouted about enough to know 
we’re not in that vicinity, and they’ll never expect 
us to walk into their hands. 

I figure it out like 'this. They’ll carry the 
stuff back aboard the boat to-night. Then they’ll 


THE TREASURE 


261 


begin to fret and fume about our share. They 
won’t know how much we took, but they won’t 
underestimate it, you may be sure. I reckon 
there was some hitch in their plan or they’d have 
swooped down on us before we had time to get 
a dollar. They’ll come, as soon as they get to 
thinking about it. If they sail round we’d better 
not be bottled up in here. If they walk, why — ” 
He looked steadily at Jim who blinked and 
nodded understanding^. 

If they do, why we may call on them while 
they’re out.” 

So you’ve been thinking it all out ! ” cried 
Jim. I’m with you, Bob. Who cares for sleep 
to-night. Up with the anchor now, I say.” 

They had to turn the Emmie about with the 
sweeps and pole her out to the entrance before 
her sail could draw. But once outside they found 
a fair little breeze had risen, and stretching them- 
selves comfortably in the cockpit they started on 
their course round the southern end of the island. 

This carried them directly away from the 
beach where Morgan had sunk his treasure chest. 
The turtlers might still be thereabouts, and 
though the Emmie might slip by undetected, dis- 


262 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


CO very would upset all their plans. By the south- 
ern course the boys could approach the turtlers’ 
retreat by the back-door, so to speak. 

Rounding the end of the island they bore up 
along the shore with the sheet well eased. Jim 
took the helm while Bob, crouching before the 
mast, studied the indentations in the beach as 
well as he could in the moonlight. At last he 
whistled warningly, and Jim promptly brought 
the boat up into the wind. 

‘‘ I think they lie just ahead,” said Bob, as he 
crawled back to the cockpit. “ The cove isn’t 
far off I know. It wouldn’t be safe to go fur- 
ther. We’ll run into this pocket here and get 
out of sight.” 

The little opening into which they ran the 
Emmie was not deep, but it was pouch-shaped 
and by anchoring close to the bank they were 
practically out of the direct range of vision of 
anyone passing the entrance. 

Now for a scouting expedition,” said Bob. 
“ We’ll take the tender. With two pairs of oars 
you and I can outrow them without half trying. 
Theirs is a pot-bellied old tub, and leaks like a 
sieve. I’ll wager.” 


THE TREASURE 


263 

They took their places in the light skiff, and 
passing out of the entrance, sent her along the 
shore with quiet strokes. The night was cloud- 
ing up. The moon was seldom clear. Long 
wisps of torn vapor drifted across her yellow 
face, and dimmed her light. In keeping with the 
clouds the wind had begun to assume an increased 
steadiness and force, and the boys could hear the 
stir of roused water upon the beach. 

‘‘ We’re in for a storm, I reckon,” said Bob. 

“ Let her blow,” replied Jim. ‘‘ We’re in a 
snug harbor.” 

‘‘ Provided we’re not driven out.” Bob glanced 
up at the shrouded moon and sniffed the air. 

The wind’s cold and full of salt,” he said. 
‘‘ There’ll be a norther on to-morrow.” 

They were rowing so near the shore that in 
spite of gathering clouds they could make out 
their surroundings quite clearly. They had walked 
this stretch of beach the day before, and pres- 
ently they noted a familiar point of sand. The 
entrance to the turtlers’ cove lay not far beyond 
this, and dropping to a slower stroke they ran 
in close upon the land and crept forward at a 
snail’s pace. 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


264 

A narrow wooded point now hid them from 
the cove. It was a question whether they should 
row round this and into the cove itself, or anchor 
the tender there and creep through the woods. 
As they lay there debating, the creak of oars 
against new thole-pins came across the little point 
with startling clearness. With one thrust of his 
oar into the shallow water Bob drove the skiff 
under the impenetrable shade of the mangroves. 
Grasping an arched root he held her there 
and Jim and he crouched low, not daring to 
move. 

The boat swept round the point with a clumsy 
swash and seemed about to follow the course over 
which the boys had just come. But immediately 
a loud protest arose from her crew. 

‘‘ Where are you steering her, Rafe ? ” one 
cried out. 

“ This is no way to go,” said another, and the 
rowers lifted the oars and let the boat drift. 

“What do you want, then?” asked Rafe im- 
patiently. “ Isn’t this course as good’s another? ” 

“We might as well row plumb out to sea, I 
reckon,” said one of the objectors. “ Didn’t they 
go the other way when we jumped ’em? Worse 


THE TREASURE 265 

luck for our being such fools as to let ’em get 
off with the money ! ” 

You ! ” cried Rafe, angrily. “ Who let ’em 
get away? If I hadn’t half broke my leg this 
afternoon I’d have overhauled the two of ’em 
myself. Mack knows that.” 

“ Oh, I ain’t saying you can’t run,” replied 
the other rower, “ but that chance is passed and 
gone, and the question is now where’ll we row 
her to. I figure hit out with Eben we’d ought 
to go the other way.” 

“ Swing her round then,” said Rafe sulkily, 
and the water gurgled as he threw the tiller over 
with a jerk. “ There’s one thing certain. We’ll 
row plumb round this island and hunt hit so a 
duck couldn’t hide from us if you-all have got 
any grit to you. Those kids have walked off 
with the biggest half of the stuff right under 
our noses.” 

‘‘ We’ll hunt as long as you,” said one of the 
others grimly. ‘‘ Hump your back. Mack. We’ve 
wasted time enough now.” 

The oars dug the water viciously and the boat 
passed out of sight beyond the point. Bob stuck 
his fist in Jim’s ribs and laughed silently. 


266 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


‘‘ I reckon they spoke the truth when they 
said they’d row plumb round the island,” he 
chuckled. “ This is what I call a wonderful piece 
of luck.” 

It wasn’t luck that moved the Emmie” said 
Jim. “ It was your good sense, Bob. First and 
last everything’s owing to that.” 

Quit that,” said Bob seriously. “ This ex- 
pedition’s had two heads, and we’ve put them 
together. Now what do you say to a call on our 
friend Joe?” 

“ I reckon that’s in order,” replied Jim. “ But 
remember he’s armed and we’re not.” 

We’ll take our time about it,” said Bob. 
“ We may catch him asleep. He’s had a long 
day of it and I’ll wager he won’t think it neces- 
sary to be on the lookout for a couple of kids.” 

They circled the point on which little waves 
were beginning to lap, and let the wind drive 
them into the cove. They were in no hurry. If 
Joe were awake and watchful his pistol would 
make. him a bad customer to face. So shipping 
the oars they lay flat in the skiff while Bob kept 
her close to the bank by an occasional touch on 
the tiller. 


THE TREASURE 


267 

The wind, increasing steadily, blew straight 
into the cove with sufficient force to waft the 
skiff gently onward. The moon was now almost 
wholly obscured, but to be on the safe side Bob 
kept the boat under the overhanging branches. 
The cove was fairly wide, and the water gave 
out a certain pale sheen. By and by they made 
out the dark bulk of the turtlers’ craft, and as 
they drew opposite it a lighted lantern was vis- 
ible, screened by a piece of canvas thrown over 
the jaws of the boom. 

Bob pushed the skiff ashore and fastened her in 
place with an oar driven into the mud alongside. 

“ We’re safe here,” he said. Joe’s awake, 
worse luck. I reckon we’ll have to lay siege to 
him.” 

Joe was sitting astern, his back against the 
shears. He was awake sure enough for the boys 
could see the dull glow of his pipe whenever he 
sucked hard upon it, and when that pleasure was 
exhausted he began to sing some long-winded 
ditties in a hoarse bass voice. Evidently Joe was 
in good spirits. 

‘‘ Confound him,” growled Jim. He’s a reg- 
ular owl. Is he going to sit up all night ! ” 


268 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


Presently the man stopped singing, depressed, 
perhaps, by the sound of his own voice in the 
profound night stillness. He stepped into the 
cockpit and thence into the small cabin forward, 
and for a moment the boys’ hopes rose. But he 
soon reappeared, and began to walk about the 
boat, and once he stooped and examined the 
anchor rope. Immediately afterward he stared 
at the sky which was as black as ink. 

I reckon he’s glad he was left aboard,” said 
Bob. 

The mangroves were beginning to creak over- 
head. The chill wind sighed through the leaves, 
and wrinkled the surface of the cove. Outside 
they could hear the low swash of water, and a 
vague, faint pulsation from the distant open 
sea. 

Joe proceeded to snug things down method- 
ically. He looked to the lashing of the lantern, 
pulled the jib neatly inboard, and tied several 
stops round the slovenly furled mainsail. Then 
with a long yawn he disappeared into the cabin. 
This time there was no doubt as to his intentions, 
and the boys waited restlessly till they thought 
the fellow had had sufficient time to fall asleep. 


THE TREASURE 


269 

Muffling the thole-pins with their handkerchiefs 
Bob rowed softly out toward the sloop. It was 
a nervous moment when they reached her stern. 
As Jim fastened the painter of the tender to a 
cleat, Bob whispered his last instructions. 

“ When I jump on him, Jim, go for his legs 
and wrap this bit of rope round them. With 
his legs tied he’ll be as easy as a baby to handle. 
Remember, Jim! Stick to his legs whatever 
happens.” 

Jim nodded. They crept cautiously up over 
the stern. The reassuring sound of snoring came 
from the cabin, and they dropped lightly into the 
cockpit. But at the next step Jim’s toe encoun- 
tered a bucket and sent it clattering along the 
flooring. It sounded like a thunder-clap to their 
tense nerves, and it was sufficiently loud to rouse 
Joe. 

They heard him stir, and then he said in sleepy 
tones : 

“ Hullo, boys ! Did you get ’em ? ” 

Now I ” said Bob, in a shrill whisper. 

With Jim at his heels he dove forward into 
the cabin?" Joe, stupid with sleep, half rose from 
his blanket on the floor, but the next moment he 


270 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

was flat on his back again with Bob’s strong arms 
around him. 

He screeched like a wild-cat, and in his first 
superstitious fright he seemed about to faint 
away. But realizing immediately that it was 
something warm and as human as himself that 
had attacked him, he fought fiercely. The three 
rolled from side to side in the dark, ill-smelling 
little cabin. Tin and crockery fell clattering about 
them. A pot of soup was upset and the greasy 
contents seemed to spread over everything. 

But Joe was no match for his two agile young 
opponents. Jim got a twist of the rope about 
his ankles at last, and the rest was easy. They 
soon had him trussed like a roasted fowl, and 
tucked into one of the bunks out of the way. 
Then Bob cut down the lantern and they began 
their search. 

In the tiny space forward of the cabin they 
unearthed a goodly lot of coins, but not the full 
amount they knew the turtlers had taken. Where 
the rest was they could not imagine. They ex- 
plored every nook and cranny, and looked into 
every pot and can in vain, while Joe’s eyes 
watched them fiercely. 


THE TREASURE 


271 


Let it go,” said Bob at last. It’s dirty 
work and we’ve enough. Good-night Joe, and let 
this be a lesson to you. If you or your fine friends 
ever show your faces in Ordville again you won’t 
get off so easy. We haven’t forgotten you tried 
to shoot us down in cold blood.” 

The man ground his teeth in impotent rage. 

“ I wish I’d got you ! ” he cried with an oath, 
and strained at his bonds. 

Good-night, Joe,” said Jim sweetly. “ I hope 
the gang won’t be too hard on you when they 
get back.” 

The boys stepped into the tender and unfasten- 
ing her started down the cove, but before they 
had taken a dozen strokes they heard with alarm 
the sound of oars ahead. 

In with her to the left,” whispered Bob. 

Keep her still now. Don’t move for your 
life.” 

There was no mistake about it. The turtlers’ 
crew were coming up the entrance. Why they 
had returned so unexpectedly the boys could only 
guess, and presently they found that their sur- 
mise was correct. 

Confound the wind ! ” cried one of the men. 


272 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

We’d have had the kids to-night if it hadn’t 
started to blow a gale.” 

Well, they won’t dare to cut and run in this 
weather,” said another, “ and we’ll hunt ’em out 
in the sloop at daybreak, wind or no wind.” 

“ If that Joe hasn’t let the light go out! ” he 
added. The sleepy-headed fool 1 Where does 
she lie? ” 

The boat passed on, a faint dark smudge 
against the water. 

‘‘ Out with her, Jim,” cried Bob. “ They’ll 
find it all out in a minute, and then nothing can 
hold ’em. They’ll have the sloop out after us 
for they’ll know we must be anchored near by.” 

Bending to the oars with a will they shot 
through the entrance and round the point. The 
wind was singing wildly across the water, and the 
sea had such a heave to it that it was no wonder 
the turtlers had given up the chase. The light 
skiff swooped and dove like a whistler duck, 
throwing the spray from her nose and charging 
through it as the wind whipped it back. 

‘‘Pull, Jim, pull!” encouraged Bob, and Jim 
pulled with a vigor that showed he was awake 
to the seriousness of their situation. 


THE TREASURE 


273 


When they reached the Emmie there was no 
abatement of their energy. Bob triple reefed the 
mainsail while Jim got the anchor aboard. It 
was a wild night and growing worse, but it was 
better to face the wind than the rage of the re- 
vengeful turtlers. There were many chances 
among the reefs and keys to find a snug lee berth, 
and Bob believed in the heels of the Emmie E. 
If they could get away in time he was sure they 
could outrun the- turtlers’ craft, and it would not 
be difficult in that case to slip away from them 
in the darkness. 

They poled the boat out to a spot where the 
wind began to belly out the sail. 

Haul her in! ” cried Bob. “ There, that will 
do. Keep your hand on the mainsheet and cast 
it off quick when I give the word.” 

The Emmie dashed out into the deeper water 
with a joyous plunge. Instantly Bob thrust the 
tiller hard over and she reeled and swung with 
a sickening list and a solid sheet of water poured 
over her lee rail. There was the turtlers’ 
boat close upon them, but the Emmie, righting 
stanchly, swept away from under her nose. 

A broad white bolt of lightning cracked the 


274 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


sky from zenith to horizon. In the roll of thun- 
der that followed the pistol shot from the tur- 
tlers’ deck sounded like the popping of a cork. 
It was wasting ammunition to expend it in such 
thick darkness and no more shots were fired. It 
was a case now of boat against boat in a wind 
and sea that would test their qualities to the 
utmost. 


CHAPTER XIV 


TRIUMPHANT 

The Emmie's course lay due south for the 
matter of a mile before she could turn the lower 
end of the island. Consequently she had a fair 
wind for that distance, and there was wind 
enough to satisfy even the boys. With their 
booms well out and clipping the foam from the 
frothing waves with every roll, the pursued and 
the pursuer swooped forward through the night. 

The turtlers knew well that the boys could 
play them no tricks here. There was only one 
course for both and that was straight ahead. 
Reefs and keys and shoals hemmed in the narrow 
lane of water on both sides, and the least trifling 
with the tiller would result disastrously. 

The storm was playing into the hands of the 
turtlers. Their sail was not reefed down as close 
as the Emmie's. The wind fairly hurled their 
heavier craft through the broken surface of the 
275 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


276 

water. By the incessant play of the lightning 
which crackled in a net of blinding lines across 
the sky they could see the Emmie clearly, and 
gauge with accuracy every yard they gained. 

“ Do you think we can make it ? ” shouted 
Jim through the wind. He was crouching in the 
cockpit with the loose end of the mainsheet in 
his hands. It took Bob’s superior strength and 
coolness to handle the tiller in such weather. 

“ I reckon we can if the wind don’t blow any 
harder,” said Bob. “ I wish it would rain.” 

It might as well be daylight, with this light- 
ning,” acquiesced Jim. “ We’re not far from the 
end of the island, though.” 

Much as he wished the blurring rain would 
come the lightning was useful in one respect. 
By its glare Bob could see the island spring out 
of the blackness as clear as print on a page, and 
these sudden glimpses enabled him to get his bear- 
ings. In every interval of dark his heart seemed 
to crawl up his throat at the thought that the 
next plunge might crack the Emmie's bottom on 
some shoal. With the eager seas behind her she 
could not live long if once she struck. 

He did not share Jim’s eagerness to reach the 







TRIUMPHANT 


279 


end of the island. Though the turtlers had 
gained upon them the Emmie was far from being 
overtaken, and Bob believed that as the wind 
lessened she could more than hold her own on 
a straight course. Once they had rounded the 
lower end of the island they would have to beat 
a wearisome way home, and here skill and luck 
and a knowledge of the ticklish region would 
count heavily. The turtlers, who lived on their 
boat the year round, were almost as cunning and 
skilful in the water as wild fowl. 

The end of the island drew near. Bob clenched 
his teeth and braced himself for what was coming. 
Now he was glad of the three reefs in the 
Emmie's sail. Stiff as she was she could not 
have faced such a wind with all her canvas. 

Ready! ” cried Bob. Now, in with her! ” 

He bore upon the tiller and the Emmie 
swooped in a great curve, the seas swashing over 
her high weather rail. With all his strength Jim 
hauled upon the mainsheet. It was as much as 
he could do to get the boom in, but presently 
Bob cried out for him to make fast. 

This was a short leg and a swift one. The 
turtlers almost came to grief as they changed 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


2 So 

their course, and for a moment the big sail threw 
their craft over at a perilous angle. But she 
righted without mishap, and by the next flash 
Bob could see her crew perched on her weather 
rail, holding her down to it with their weight. 

Though they gained here the hardest part of 
all was to come. Fortunately there was room 
to spare, and the Emmie could make quite a run 
of it before coming about. She tore across the 
seas like a mad thing, her lee rail under, and 
sheets of cold spray drenching the boys to the 
skin. 

Let go the sheet ! ” cried Bob, and obeying 
her tiller the Emmie swung up into the wind, 
echoing like a drum under the blows of the 
waves. For one horrid moment she hung there 
wallowing, but as the mainsheet snapped taut and 
the gale caught her sail again, she headed bravely 
into the smother. 

The turtlers came about the next instant and 
made as if to cut the Emmie off. But their 
heavier craft did not respond with sufficient 
quickness, and her large spread of canvas ham- 
pered her. Still, when she began to forge for- 
ward she had cut a third off the Emmie's lead. 


TRIUMPHANT 


281 


Bob dreaded the repetition of these tactics in 
the narrowing waters ahead. In the long throat 
of the lagoon the turtlers, absolutely reckless as 
they were, might succeed in running them down. 

Close to the lagoon’s throat on the east was 
a wide shoal, an under-water continuation of the 
outer bar. Ordinarily there was enough water 
on it to let the Emmie slide across, but very little 
more. Under the drive of a norther the water 
was always lower there than usual, but never- 
theless Bob determined on the desperate expe- 
dient of crossing this dangerous place. 

If they struck, the water was not deep enough 
to drown them and they might be able to escape 
to the bar in the tender. If they succeeded in 
passing over there would be heavy seas to face 
until they could reach an opening in the bar two 
miles north, but Bob was not afraid of the seas. 
The question was, could they reach the bar before 
the turtlers, if the Emmie struck. And then an- 
other possibility dawned upon him. 

The turtlers could not be so familiar with the 
water round the lagoon as they were with those 
farther south. It was quite possible that they 
did not know of the existence of the shoal, and 


282 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


it was highly improbable that their sloop could 
pass over it. 

'‘Jim!” cried Bob. “ I’m going to cross 
Broken Point shoal on the next tack.” 

" We can’t do it! ” gasped Jim. " We’ll strike 
as sure as guns ! ” 

Bob set his jaw firmly. 

" I think we can get over,” he said. " Ready 
now ! About she comes ! ” 

The Emmie pounded furiously in the black 
waters, and heeled as the wind struck her till it 
seemed as if she meant to go on her beam’s 
end. 

" Shall I loosen the sheet? ” roared Jim, cling- 
ing to the rail with one hooked arm, the water 
rushing over his feet, which were braced against 
the lee wall of the cockpit. 

" No,” cried Bob. " She’ll straighten out in 
a minute. And she won’t draw so much water, 
sailing on her ear.” 

Jim comprehended and smiled grimly. As the 
sky burned in a furious darting of electricity they 
saw the turtlers’ boat swooping behind them like 
some monstrous storm bird. How the craft had 
gained upon them so, they could not tell. There 


TRIUMPHANT 283 

she was, and it was nip and tuck now for Broken 
Point shoal. 

With his eyes fixed unwaveringly ahead to 
catch every glimpse of the point, Bob steered the 
Emmie for the best there was in him. 

‘‘ We’re almost there, Jim,” he cried at last. 
“ Bring up the stuff into the cockpit. If we strike 
we must have it ready to put in the tender.” 

It took strength and grit to crawl along the 
lowered sidi of the little cabin and remove the 
heavy burlap bag from its nook forward, but in 
spite of slips and tumbles Jim presently appeared 
with their treasure. 

“ Now for it ! ” cried Bob. “ Haul the sheet in 
a bit more.” 

“She’ll turn over!” said Jim, alarmed. 

“ No she won’t,” said Bob. “ We’re close up 
in the lee of the point. But just take a turn 
round the cleat and be ready to let go like a shot.” 

The Emmie went down with a sickening give 
as Jim yanked her boom inboard. Down she went 
till her little cockpit was half filled with water. 
If the wind had increased by a breath she would 
have gone over, but in a moment she was under 
the lee of the point and in calmer waters. That 


284 BY REEF AND TRAIL 

danger was passed. If she did not strike all 
would be well. 

Jim looked back over his shoulder, striving to 
pierce the darkness. He could distinguish noth- 
ing, not even the hissing heads of the waves 
racing alongside. But he knew that the flashes 
had revealed their course, and that the turtlers 
were close behind unless they had suddenly aban- 
doned the chase through fear of the shoal. 

A long streak of lightning flared 5nd the pur- 
suing craft stood out clearly on the weirdly lighted 
water. The flash had hardly vanished when 
three huge, dazzling rents seemed to tear the 
sky apart. It was as light as day for a moment, 
and Jim, gazing astern, saw the turtlers’ boat 
pause suddenly in her downward swoop. Over 
went her mast, cracked short off at the deck, and 
her sail beat upon the water like the broken wing 
of a goose. Darkness engulfed her the next 
instant, and peals of thunder rattled a mocking 
requiem. 

Awed by the catastrophe Jim forgot to feel 
triumphant. 

They’ve struck. Bob ! ” he cried. ‘‘ I saw the 
mast go clean overboard.” 


TRIUMPHANT 


285 

What ! ” said Bob. “ Hurrah ! Ease her off 
now. We’re as safe as if we were at home in 
bed.” 

They’re not in any real danger, I reckon,” 
said Jim, letting the mainsheet out. 

“Not a bit. The water isn’t over three feet 
deep here if it’s that, and they’re only a short 
way from the point. They can row there in three 
minutes — or walk if they choose. Trust a tur- 
tier to take care of himself. But they won’t 
get their old boat off Broken Point shoal in a 
hurry.” 

“ Think it’s safe to ease her off? ” asked Jim. 
“ I didn’t take my bearings that last flash.” 

“ She’s begun to deepen,” said Bob. “ We’ll 
strike plenty of water in a minute. There, feel 
that!” 

The Emmie plunged violently and tossed the 
spray over her bows, but in a moment she steadied 
to the longer swing of the waves. The motion 
was a relief after the short pitching on the shoal, 
and though the wind now bore upon them with 
more force it was easier to meet it in this deeper 
water. . Nor was there any need now of sacri- 
ficing safety to speed. Worn out as the boys 


286 


BY REEF AND TRAIL 


were from their strenuous day and night their 
spirits rose exultantly. 

It’ll be morning when we get there,” said 
Bob. 

Yes,” said Jim. It seems almost like a 
dream. Bob.” He drew the bag to him and 
spreading it open, feasted his eyes on the heap of 
tarnished coins. How much blood and violence 
those dull disks had seen since they left the mints 
of Spain. Their reappearance after decades of 
oblivion had found the world as lustful for their 
possession as of old. They had roused all that 
was selfish and cruel in man, and the thought of 
their history sobered the spirits of the boys. A 
great responsibility went with the possession of 
them. There was good and evil in them. So far 
their power had been largely used for evil, and it 
seemed to Bob and Jim that it was for them to 
wipe out the stain upon Morgan’s gold. 

As they passed through the cut in the bar into 
the lagoon the sun was just rising behind the 
black pines on the mainland. The wind still blew 
with force, but the clouds were breaking and in 
the west was a patch of clear soft blue below 
which the sun rose glorious. Its light shot over 


TRIUMPHANT 


287 

the black pines and touched the white houses of 
Ordville. Bob saw the little bungalow among its 
azaleas, and the thought that he was bringing 
some relief into the lives of the sleeping inmates 
swelled his heart and flushed his tired face. And 
back in the pines was a sick girl. He was bring- 
ing aid to her too. In truth Bob realized then 
that in peace of spirit the doer of good has his 
reward. 



APPENDIX A 


GLOSSARY 

ALLIGATOR 

The alligators differ from the crocodiles in having 
shorter, broader heads and more numerous teeth. A 
true American crocodile has been found in Florida. The 
hahits of both creatures are much alike. The alligators 
hibernate in winter, burying themselves in the mud. The 
female lays from twenty to forty eggs on a mound of 
earth, moss, and grass about two feet high. It has been 
known to attack and kill men in the water, but it cannot 
turn quickly on land. 

BEAR 

The black bear is quite common in Florida, but is 
seldom seen. He keeps to the densest brakes and ham- 
mocks on the mainland, but on the larger islands and 
the great bar lying off the east coast he often takes 
midnight rambles along the beaches in search of fish and 
turtles’ eggs. The usual method of hunting them is with 
a pack of hounds trained for the purpose. Some sports- 
men say that the Florida black bear is fiercer than his 
relatives in the North. 

BOAR 

In most of the counties of Florida the hogs colloquially 
known as razor-backs, are allowed to run wild and forage 

289 


APPENDIX 


290 

for their living. When needed for food they are caught 
or shot, but many of them of course live and die in 
the Avoods like wild animals, among which m truth they 
might be included. Generations of forest-bred ancestry 
have resulted in an animal a good deal like the densely 
bristled wild boar of Europe, with a temper often as 
vicious. 

BULL -WHIP 

This is the long lashed whip referred to in the definition 
of cracker. The handle is very short, hardly more than 
a foot long, while the lash is often fifteen or eighteen 
feet long, made of braided leather or deer skin. There 
is great art in swinging it, as it is apt awkwardly han- 
dled to come back on the face or body with painful 
results. 

BUZZARD 

The turkey-buzzard belongs to the vulture family, 
which ranks at the bottom of the list of the birds of 
prey. Although it has strong talons and a strong beak, 
it kills nothing, and feeds on dead animals. The enor- 
mous heights to which they soar, and their marvellous 
quickness in finding the body of a dead animal, are the 
most interesting and striking things about the vultures. 
The buzzard is an ugly creature seen at close range, 
but when it is sailing and circling far up in the heavens 
on wide spread motionless pinions, there are few birds 
that can equal it in beauty. Its wing spread is about 
six feet. Its plumage is blackish brown ; head and 
neck naked and red. It ranges temperate North America 
from the Atlantic to the Pacific. 

CABBAGE PALM 

One of several species of palm of which the great 
terminal bud is eaten like cabbage, and also bears nuts 
of which the kernel is sweet. 


GLOSSARY 


291 


CANE-BRAKE 

A tract of land thickly overgrown with a kind of tall, 
woody grass allied to the bamboo. The cane grows in 
rich river bottoms and swampy places and reaches a 
height of from ten to forty feet. It is used for fishing- 
rods and various other purposes, and cattle and hogs are 
fond of the young plants and the seeds. 

CARAPACE 

The shell of a turtle or tortoise. Specifically the up- 
per shell, the under shell being called the plastron. 

CAY 

Same as key. A low island, a sandbank, near the 
coast. The name is used especially on the coast of re- 
gions where Spanish is or was spoken: as the Florida 
Keys. 

COON 

The raccoon is about two feet long, with a stout body, 
a bushy, ringed tail, short limbs, pointed ears, broad 
face and a very pointed snout. It is of a general gray- 
ish color, with light and dark markings on the face. It 
is common in the Southern parts of the United States 
and feeds on fruit and other vegetables as well as ani- 
mal substances. Its appetite is omnivorous, it being par- 
ticular only in soaking its food in water before eating 
it. Its favorite dwelling place is a hollow tree and its 
yearly family consists of four or five young. 

CRACKER 

One of an inferior class of white people in some of 
the Southern United States, especially in Georgia and 
Florida. The name is said to have been applied be- 
cause cracked corn is their chief article of diet. I have 
also heard it said that the name came from the fact that 


292 


APPENDIX 


these people use a peculiarly long lashed whip which they 
crack with such violence that it sounds like the report 
of a rifle. 

CRANE 

The cranes are nearly all powerful birds with long 
necks, long legs and powerful wings. They migrate in 
large flocks, flying up a great height and like geese in 
a V-shaped body. Cranes use their bills as a weapon of 
defense, attacking the eyes of an assailant. The 
whooping and sandhill cranes build nests of roots, rushes, 
and weed stalks in some marshy place. The two eggs of 
each are four inches long, olive gray in color, spotted and 
blotched indistinctly with cinnamon brown. 

CRAVALLY 

Closely allied to the mackerel family. It is a hand- 
some silvery fish bound in blue and yellow, and can be 
found in and about the inlets and tideways. In rare in- 
stances it reaches twenty pounds in weight, but is usually 
taken from two to ten pounds. Ordinary black bass tackle 
is suitable for this fish, with a sinker adapted to the 
strength of the tide. For baits, any small fish will an- 
swer, while shrimp and cut bait can also be used. 
Gaudy flies are the best for fly fishing, which can be done 
from piers, boats, or points of inlets. The most popular 
way of fishing is by trolling in the channels, when a 
spoon with but a single hook should be used. 

PIN TAIL DUCK 

Sometimes called the water pheasant on account of its 
beautiful plumage. Its correct name comes from its seven- 
inch long finely pointed tail. It ranges over nearly all 
of North America, but its favorite breeding grounds are 
in the sub-Arctic regions. It is as much at home on 
fresh water lakes and rivers as on the salt water inlets 


GLOSSARY 293 

of the Atlantic coast. Like the mallard, it does well in 
captivity, but is not such a good breeder. 

GROUND -DOVE 

A dove or pigeon of terrestrial habits. It is one of 
the smallest birds of its kind, being only six and one- 
half to seven inches long. It has short, broad wings and 
tail, no iridescence on head or neck, and blue-black 
spots on the wings, the male being varied with grayish 
olive, bluish and purplish-red tints, and having the wings 
lined with orange brown or chestnut. This pretty bird 
is found in the Southern United States from the Atlan- 
tic to the Pacific, especially along the coasts. It nests on 
the ground or in bushes, and lays two white eggs. 

MOURNING DOVE 

(Called also Carolina dove and turtle dove.) 

It breeds throughout the United States from Canada 
to the Gulf and migrates as far South as Panama. 
From the peculiarly mournful sound of its call note 
comes the name by which it is commonly known. An- 
other interesting fact about this bird is the musical note 
that is sounded by the vibration of its wings as it rises 
from the ground or flies overhead. 

DRUM FISH 

Found on the Atlantic coast of America from Cape 
Cod to Brazil. It gets its name from the emission of a 
peculiar sound resembling the beat of a drum, and 
thought to be caused by the movement of the air in its 
complicated air bladder. 

GUDGEON 

A small fish easily caught which is used for bait. The 
w6rd gudgeon is applied to persons who are easily 
cheated or deceived. 


294 


APPENDIX 


HERON 

Herons are gregarious birds and nest and roost in 
flocks in favorable localities, but solitary birds are seen 
feeding on the shores of lagoons, rivers and lakes. In 
Florida one meets herons constantly, fishing on the beach 
or wading in the lagoons. The little blue heron goes 
northward beyond the Canadian border when its duties 
in the southern rookeries are over. The snowy heron, 
once so abundant in the southern marshes, has almost 
disappeared. The beautiful plumes that it wears in the 
nesting season have attracted the plume hunters who sup- 
ply the milliners with this coveted decoration. The parents 
are destroyed, and their destruction means the death of 
thousands of fledglings. It is said that some of the 
plume hunters evade the law against shooting this heron, 
by cutting the plumes from the living bird, leaving it to 
die. 

HERRING 

An important food fish. They are generally caught in 
gill-nets or scoop-nets. The annual catch probably 
amounts to many hundreds of millions. They are 
smoked, dried, pickled or eaten fresh. 

TO HIKE 

A colloquial term, meaning to travel. 

IBIS 

A wading bird, with a long, curved, blunt bill grooved 
along the sides. The wood ibis, in reality a member of 
the stork family, is not uncommon in the Southern 
United States. It is like the turkey buzzard a grace- 
ful flier. When procuring food it dances about in the 
shallow edges of a lagoon, stirring up the mud, which 
brings the fish to the top. A sharp stroke from the 
heavy beak leaves the fish floating about dead to serve 


GLOSSARY 


295 

as bait. The ibis then waits for other fish, frogs and 
lizards to approach the bait, when he strikes here and 
there for the choicest food. The white ibis is yet found 
in Florida. 

KING -FISH 

Second cousin to the Spanish mackerel. It is found 
along the reefs from Cape Florida to Boca Chica. It 
is one of the principal food fishes of Key West and 
is taken by fishermen trolling with a piece of bacon, 
which is something of an indignity, for it is a splendid 
game fish on the rod. 


LAGOON 

An area of shallow water, or marshy land, bordering 
on the sea, and usually separated from the deeper water 
outside by a belt of sand or of sand dunes. 

MAGNOLIA 

A big laurel or bull bay. A fine forest tree sixty or 
eighty feet high, evergreen, with fragrant flowers. A 
smaller variety is the magnolia glauca. In the South this 
is a moderate sized tree, in the North a shrub. It grows in 
swamps from Massachusetts to Florida. The leaves in 
the South are evergreen. 

MALLARD DUCK 

This is one of the largest ducks, and one of the hand- 
somest. The male has a brilliant green head and neck 
and gray body. The female is brown, streaked with 
black. It has a large range, coverit% practically the 
whole North American continent down to Panama. In 
captivity it thrives and is prolific. 

MANGROVE 

A low tree of most singular habits. The stems put 
forth long aerial roots which extend down to the water: 


APPENDIX 


296 

the seeds germinate in the fruit and send down a long 
and heavy root, and thus the mangrove spreads thickly 
over the tidal mud forming impenetrable malarial bogs. 
The wood is used for fuel, for piles, etc. The bark is 
valuable for tanning. 

MAST 

The fruit of the oak and beech or other forest trees, 
acorns or nuts collectively serving as food for animals. 

MOCCASIN 

A venomous snake of the United States. It is small, 
commonly about two feet long; dark olive brown above 
and yellowish brown below, with blackish bars and 
blotches. The top of the head is mostly covered with 
scales like those on the back, instead of large regular 
plates as in harmless serpents. 

The water moccasin somewhat resembles the copper- 
head. Another variety very similar to the water mocca- 
sin is found on dry land and is called the high-land 
moccasin. A third, known as the cotton-mouth in the 
Southern States, is particularly feared. 

MORGAN 

Sir Henry Morgan (1635?-1688), buccaneer; com- 
manded a privateer, 1663; sailed with Edward Mans- 
field and was elected “admiral” of the buccaneers on 
Mansfield’s death, 1666. Attacked Porto Bello and sacked 
it; ravaged the coast of Cuba and the mainland of 
America; captured the city of Panama, etc. 

MOSQUITOES 

In many parts of Florida, such as the larger swamps, 
mosquitoes are so numerous that it is practically impos- 
sible for white men to live there. It is well known that, 
during the Spanish Invasion, the Indians often tied Span- 


GLOSSARY 


297 

ish prisoners in places where they would be exposed to 
these ravenous insects whose stings would often bring the 
victim near to death before morning. Of course the 
warden’s story was somewhat embellished in order that 
it might have the desired dramatic effect upon his 
hearers. 

MUD HEN 

4 

The coot or mud hen is found in reedy, shallow lakes 
or creeks. It is extremely common in Florida, gathering 
in enormous flocks. Its bill is more like a pigeon’s than 
a duck’s, and its foot instead of being fully webbed has 
scalloped membranes along each toe. 

NIGGERHEAD 

A round tuft or tussock of grass in swampy lands. 
LIVE OAK 

Florida is called the Live Oak State. The wood of 
this oak is very heavy, hard, strong, fine grained and 
durable. It is much prized in ship building. 

WATER -OAK OR PIN OAK 

This oak loves a moist, rich soil, and is found on the 
borders of swamps and in river bottoms. The name 
of pin oak seems to refer to the great number of tiny 
branches, which are so intermingled with the large ones 
that at a distance it has the appearance of being full of 
pins. Oaks are very long lived trees. There are in 
England now oaks which are said to have been old trees 
in the time of William the Conqueror. 

OAKUM 

Junk or old ropes untwisted and picked into loose 
fibres resembling tow, used for calking the seams of 
ships. That made from untarred ropes is called white 
oakum. 


298 


APPENDIX 


OSPREY 

The American osprey or fish hawk is seen in summer 
on the seacoast from Alaska and Hudson Bay to the 
Gulf of Mexico, but in winter it migrates to Southern 
Florida, the West Indies and northern South America. 
The osprey is a veritable light weight athlete, all bone 
and muscle. It is a bold fisher, and thinks nothing of 
dropping from a great height into ice cold water and 
seizing a fish of nearly half his own weight. The osprey 
builds its nest in a tree, on a rock or on the ground, 
and the nests often acquire enormous dimensions from 
yearly additions and repairs. 

OYSTER -SHELL ROAD 

As stone is very rare in Florida, oyster shells are 
frequently thrown on the sandy roads, where they are 
crushed by the passing teams, and reduced to a more 
or less hard level surface. It is a rude method of 
macadamizing. 

PALMETTO SCRUB 

A shrub with huge broad leaves, which, trimmed and 
dried, form the palm-leaf fan of commerce. 

BLACK -BREASTED PLOVER 

This bird appears in the South in the beginning of 
April. Unlike the southward migration in the autumn 
when they congregate in great flocks, they come in small 
numbers, but at such short intervals as to form an almost 
continuous line. After dark their well known cries 
give note of their passage, but by day they are silent, 
even when forced to betake themselves to flight. They 
nest on the ground. The great body of these plovers 
pass beyond the limits of the United States, but some 
remain to winter in Florida. In winter, as long as they 
are on the coast they feed on marine insects, worms and 


GLOSSARY 


299 


small shell fish. When in the interior, grasshoppers and 
other insects as well as various kinds of berries, fatten 
them, so as to make them fairly good eating. The 
plumage is mottled black and white. 

PANTHER (PUMA) 

Also called mountain lion and cougar, is found not 
only in Florida, but in all the great western mountain 
ranges of the United States, in Wyoming, Montana, and 
British Columbia. It is the most widely known cat 
animal of North America. It is of a brownish drab 
color, and a large specimen from seven to eight feet 
in total length will weigh 225 pounds. 

PECAN TREE 

The pecan tree is a North American tree, abounding 
from Illinois southward and southwestward. It some- 
times reaches a great height, but its wood is of little 
use except for fuel. The nut is olive shaped, an inch 
or over long, smooth and thin shelled, with a very sweet 
oily meat. Raising pecan nuts is becoming quite an 
industry in Florida. 

PHOSPHORESCENCE 

Phosphorescence is frequently observed to a very 
marked degree in sea water. It is believed to be con- 
nected with the presence of minute organisms from which 
the light is given off. 


PORPOISE 

The porpoise is eight or nine feet in length and differs 
from the dolphin in not having the fore part of the head 
prolonged into a distinct beak. They go in shoals some- 
times containing many hundreds, and are found in nearly 
all seas and usually not far from land. A fine oil is 
made from its blubber, and the skin is made into leather. 


300 


APPENDIX 


QUAIL 

The quail or bob-white is the longest-known and most 
widely known game bird, and is almost wholly a United 
States bird. The Florida bird has rather darker, richer 
coloring than the other varieties, with heavier black 
markings and a longer jet black bill. Both parents take 
turns in covering the eggs, and after they are hatched 
the young run through the brake and cultivated fields, 
learning from both parents what seeds and berries are 
safe to eat. Farmers have reason to bless them for the 
number of weed seeds and insects they destroy. 

RAIL 

Rails are birds of medium or small size, the breast 
thin and the body wedge-shaped. Their wings are short 
and rounded and their legs rather long. In general their 
plumage might be described as a mixture of brown, black 
and gray. There are several kinds of rail, the king rail 
being the biggest and the Virginia rail the most widely 
distributed. They spend their lives hidden in the sedges 
of the marshes, where their presence might be unknown 
if their voices did not betray them. They are shot in 
quantities in the autumn after they have fattened up 
on the wild rice or oat fields. “ As thin as a rail ” is 
an appropriate expression at any other time of the year. 
They are expert ventriloquists, often seeming by their 
voices to be far off, when in reality they are close at 
hand. 

RAY OR DEVIL-FISH 

The devil-fish is the largest of the rays. Maximum 
size across the wings, twenty feet. Many years ago 
harpooning this gigantic creature was a favorite sport 
of the planters on the South Carolina coast. Now they 
are rarely seen and more rarely captured. They are 
found on the coast of Southern California, but its centre 
of abundance seems to be the Gulf coast of Florida. 


GLOSSARY 


301 


RED LYNX 

The red lynx or wild cat is found in nearly all of the 
States east of the Mississippi where there are large areas 
of forest. Florida is one of the States where they are 
most numerous. The color of the fur is a mixture of 
rusty red, gray, and blackish brown, with the red so 
marked as to have given the animal its name. It has 
not the ear tufts of the Canada lynx. Mr. Hornaday, 
the well-known authority on natural history, says that 
the largest specimen that ever came into his hands 
weighed eighteen pounds. Mr. Roosevelt’s party in Colo- 
rado in 1901 killed one which weighed thirty-nine pounds. 

SAND - SHARK 

The voracious gray or sand-shark is common on the 
North Atlantic coast of the United States. It is a wide 
ranging species about six feet long. 

SAW - GRASS 

A marsh-plant with stalks from four to eight feet high, 
and long, slender, saw-toothed leaves. Found in southern 
United States. 

SCAUP DUCK 

The greater and the lesser scaup are hardly distin- 
guishable one from the other, unless one is near enough 
to note the difference in size and the slight difference 
in plumage. There is no great difference in their habits, 
except that the lesser scaup shows a preference for 
inland creeks and fresh water. It is by far the most 
abundant duck in Florida waters in the winter season. 
There seems to be some uncertainty as to whether the 
name comes from the harsh discordant noise the bird 
utters, or from the broken shell fish it feeds on when 
other better liked food fails. It has many names, one 
of them being raft duck, which comes perhaps from its 


302 


APPENDIX 


readiness to dive under a raft rather than swim around 
one. They are not easily secured if only wounded, as 
they dive, skim over the surface backward and forward, 
and have even been known to cling to a rock or bunch 
of sedge under water. 

SEA - TROUT, 

The sea-trout is not properly a trout, but is akin to 
the Northern weakfish. It is called a trout on account 
of its black spots. It is a game fish, and will afford 
the angler plenty of exercise with a light rod before it 
is landed. Unlike the sheepshead, which makes strenuous 
efforts to get to the bottom when hooked, the sea-trout 
fights on the surface of the water. 

SHEEPSHEAD 

A stout, very deep bodied fish, found in abundance 
on the Atlantic coast of the United States, and highly 
esteemed as a food fish. 

STRING -PIECE 

A heavy horizontal piece of squared timber carried 
along the edge of the front of a wharf to hold the 
timbers in place and strengthen the whole. 

SOUR ORANGE TREES 

Orange trees which have been neglected and become 
wild. The fruit is very tough, has little pulp, and is 
so sour as to be practically uneatable. 

SPANISH OR LONG -MOSS 

A plant with gray thready stems and leaves, form- 
ing dense hanging tufts, which drape the forests of the 
southern United States. Also called longbeard. 


GLOSSARY 


303 


SPARROW HAWK 

Smallest and most beautiful of American hawks. 
Length, nine to ten inches. Its cap is dull blue, its 
throat white with black side patches, and its upper neck 
and back are bright rusty brown. Its breast is salmon 
color, somewhat spotted, legs and feet bright yellow. 
Occasionally when rearing its young it catches chickens, 
but this may be overlooked when its great value as a 
destroyer of noxious insects is remembered. It may 
safely be ranked with the birds which are most useful 
to man. It is found all over the United States. 

TATTLER - YELLOWLEGS 

The yellowlegs are noisy, sociable, restless birds, keep- 
ing themselves well advertised in the marshes and about 
the bays where they feed. In spite of this they are vigilant 
and wary, and are first to give an alarm. In length they 
measure from thirteen to fourteen inches. Their legs 
are long and bright yellow. The bill is two inches long 
or over. Both male and female are dark ashy speckled 
with white; breast white heavily spotted with black, tail 
dusky with numerous white bars. They range all over 
America. 

TARPON, SILVER KING 

A large fish reaching the length of six feet and a weight 
of over two hundred pounds. It is found in the warm 
parts of the Atlantic Ocean, and is common on parts of 
the Florida coast, where it has come much into vogue, 
since, in spite of its great size, it can be taken with 
rod and line, furnishing rare sport from its vigorous 
leaps and fine fighting qualities. 

BLUE -WINGED TEAL 

This bird is so common and so small that it is not 
much prized by sportsmen. Like other teal, it likes quiet 
inland waters. The blue wing is known by the conspic- 


304 


:appendix 


uous white crescent in front of and half encircling the 
eye, and by the bright blue patch on its wing. 

TURKEY 

The turkey is the largest of the game birds, being 
about four feet long. The male has a plumage with 
metallic bronze, copper and green reflections, the feathers 
tipped with black. The wild turkey is distinguished from 
the domestic bird chiefly by the chestnut instead of 
white tips to the tail and the upper tail coverts. A long 
bunch of bristles hangs from the centre of the breast. 
The bill is red like the head ; legs red and spurred. 
The wild turkey has become very cunning and wary 
from much persecution, and the most inaccessible moun- 
tains, or swampy bottom lands, are not too remote for 
them. Unlike the quail, he leaves all the domestic 
duties to the female, who is somewhat smaller than her 
mate, duller of plumage, and without the breast bristles. 

WATER -BONNETS 

Large lily pads common to Florida inland waters. 
WEASEL 

A small carnivorous animal, with an extremely slender, 
elongated body, of a reddish brown color above and white 
below. In northerly regions it turns white in winter 
like the ermine, but has not the black tip to the tail. 
It is cunning and wary, and one of the most blood- 
thirsty of the carnivorous animals. 

WHITE -MEAT 

A term applied by “poor whites” and negroes to the 
fatty parts of pork. 

YAM 

A tuberous root containing a large amount of starch, 
and therefore highly nutritious. In tropical countries it 


GLOSSARY 


305 


largely takes the place of the potato of temperate climates. 
The Southern negroes use it as a cure for rheumatism. 

WILLET 

A North American bird of the snipe family. It is 
a large, stout tattler, with semi-palmated toes, stout bill, 
and a much variagated plumage, especially in summer. 
It abounds in temperate North America, and winters in 
the Southern States, and southward to West Indies and 
Brazil, It is a noisy bird, but very wary, not coming 
to a decoy easily like the majority of its confiding kin. 


APPENDIX B 


OUTDOOR ADVICE 

At most good hunting and fishing places on the coast 
of Florida it is possible for the sportsman to stop at 
a hotel or boarding-house. The prices will vary from 
one to five dollars a day with extras, such as charges 
for guides, teams and boats. If one is quite ignorant 
of the country and has no experienced older person with 
him, it is safer and better, all things considered, to 
engage room and board at one of the cheaper hotels. 
There he can probably procure advice and help in what- 
ever form of sport he is most interested, and any word 
from me would be superfluous. 

Personally I avoid hotels as much as possible. Camp 
life costs much less and brings one into a much more 
intimate relation with nature. There is pleasure in the 
very difficulties and discomforts that arise, the pleasure 
of using one’s hands and head against new forces with 
the certainty that courage and common sense will 
triumph. With success in surmounting difficulties is 
bound to come a feeling of self-respect which is not 
vanity, but something much more healthy. It drives 
back that hampering sense of dependence that often makes 
cowards of us all. There is nothing more satisfying to 
the ordinary, manly boy than to feel that he is not helpless 
without a shingled roof over his head and parents or 
servants at his beck and call. To realize in a small 

306 


OUTDOOR ADVICE 


307 

way that he can live without the butcher and the baker 
and all the mechanical contrivances by which the ways 
of civilized life are made smooth is certainly worth while. 
It gives him some of the sturdy spirit that won the 
great West for us. 

Camping out is not just sleeping in a tent and doing 
without the comforts of life. Everyone can do that if 
they have to, and some can do it without grumbling; 
but if the wish to grumble is there the experiment is 
a failure. I should advise no one to try it who can 
not start with a sincere love of nature. Given that, there 
will always be a redeeming feature to the most awkward 
situations. 

Camping calls for cheerfulness and unselfishness. 
Every man or boy must do his share and do it willingly. 
He should aim to get more than bare food and shelter. 
It should be his pride to pit himself against nature and 
show his strength and ingenuity in wresting all he can 
from her. When you hear a man say that he does not 
like “to rough it,” you can generally put him down as 
stupid or lazy, or both. If he finds it too “ rough,” let 
him smooth it. A little patience, a bit of energy, and 
the use of one’s eyes will show the way out of prac- 
tically every difficulty the camper may meet. 

There are many ways of camping out. There is the 
way of the lone trailer, who packs everything on his own 
sturdy shoulders, and lies at night under a square of 
waterproofed silk or canvas, or a rude roof of branches. 
As he is always on the move, his equipment must con- 
sist of what he can easily carry. One must be expe- 
rienced before he takes to the woods alone, and the 
trailer’s way is not what I wish to recommend to my 
young readers. 

There is so much game in Florida that desirable camp- 
ing and hunting sites can be found in the near vicinity 
of almost every town. Consequently everything needful 
can be carried to the spot in a wagon. But don’t let 


APPENDIX 


308 

this lead you into taking too much. The fewer things you 
have — provided they are the right things — the better. 
A lot of truck complicates rather than simplifies camp 
life. It is always in the way and an eyesore into the 
bargain. 

The first essential is, of course, a tent. Its size must 
depend on the number in the party, but if there are a 
number of people to accommodate it is better to take 
several small tents rather than one large one. A large 
tent is hard to transport and difficult to erect, and a 
proper site for it in the woods is not always easy to 
find. The biggest tent I should advise is a 10 x 12 wall 
tent. This will furnish sleeping-room for four people. 
A smaller party would do well to take an A tent, which 
is very easily handled. 

The tent should be made of waterproofed material, 
provided with a fly to protect it from the rain. It 
should be of khaki or brown canvas. A white tent is 
an abomination. It shows the dirt, and as soon as the 
sun is up its white walls fill the interior with an irri- 
tating radiance that effectually banishes sleep. Along the 
bottom rim of the tent sew, or fasten with grommets, 
a strip of canvas or cloth about two feet wide, and 
when the tent is pitched turn this in so that it lies 
along the ground inside. This will protect you from 
draughts and keep out a good many insects. In addi- 
tion to this it is sometimes a good thing to lay a 
square of canvas on the floor overlapping the turned-in 
edges just referred to. 

As to a camping site, do not pitch your tent too near 
a stream, or you will be troubled with dampness and 
mosquitoes, and perhaps a flood. Do not camp in 
narrow valleys for the same reasons. Choose high, dry 
ground, and no matter how high and dry it seems, if 
your camp is to be a permanent one, dig a shallow ditch 
completely round it. 

In such countries as Florida some protection against 


OUTDOOR ADVICE 


309 


insects is a necessity, especially in the fishing season. 
Mosquito netting is too coarse of mesh and tears easily. 
The best thing is cheesecloth, and be sure to take enough 
to cover the front of your tent, and to protect meats, 
game, etc., from flies. While hunting ducks in some 
swampy localities I have often used a bit of cheese- 
cloth as a veil, and been thankful for it. 

As to beds, you may take folding cots if you wish, 
but personally I consider them a nuisance. With the 
floor cloth already referred to, and a mattress of small 
twigs and branches to lay your blanket on, you can 
make a bed that, in my estimation, is unequalled, and 
does not have to be transported. Be sure to make your 
mattress thick enough — make it twice as thick as you 
think is necessary. Good blankets are as important in 
Florida in winter as at home, though you will not need 
so many of them. Two per man is about the right 
number. A rubber blanket is often very useful if the 
locality is at all damp. 

CAMPING OUT 

The most important thing in a camper’s kit is his axe. 
Buy a good one and have it ground before you start; 
they never have a sharp edge as they are sold in the 
stores. Also, if your camp is to be a permanent one, 
take with you a hammer, a handsaw, and some long 
nails. A good coil of rope will also be found very 
useful. 

The choice of cooking utensils is largely a matter of 
taste. Personally I prefer as few as possible, as I do 
not like to wash dishes. A knife and fork, spoon and 
tin cup per man, is all that is really necessary, with a 
coffee pot and frying pan for general use. Good plates 
can be made of bark or the leaves of the palm, and 
they can be thrown in the fire after meals. 

Every camper should take two suits of clothes and two 


APPENDIX 


310 

sets of underwear. Add to this a couple of gray flannel 
shirts with plenty of room at the neck, and a sweater. 
Don’t take a coat. In bad weather wear a thin khaki or 
“duxback” jacket over your sweater. The old idea 
that one must wear heavy, high shoes on a hunting 
trip is exploded. Wear light shoes, such as moccasins, 
over thick woollen stockings. If you intend to do much 
ducking and dislike the idea of wet feet, buy a pair 
of hip-rubber boots, and be sure that they are roomy. 
Your woollen stockings will fill up the space. But take 
your light shoes too. 

The tent that I have spoken of is meant for sleeping 
purposes only. Your kitchen must be a separate estab- 
lishment, and the simpler the better. Stretch a piece 
of canvas among the trees as a roof, cut a hole through 
it to let out the smoke if you do your cooking over a 
camp-fire, and there you are. There are a number of 
small portable stoves on the market made expressly for 
campers. I have never tried them, though I daresay 
that they have their merits. The open fire is my choice. 

The novice is apt to build too large a fire, one that 
smokes and burns his culinary efforts, and is so hot that 
one cannot stand near it without being scorched. The 
experienced woodsman makes a very small fire, just 
a handful of twigs and a few sticks about the size of a 
lead pencil. Of course you must feed it, but it is much 
easier to feed a small fire than a big one, and it will 
cook all right. Two or three little fires are better than 
a rousing large one. In gathering your fuel remember 
that the dead limbs on a living tree are drier than those 
that have fallen to the ground and been soaked by rain 
and dew. 

If you are going into an unfamiliar country you will 
need a pocket compass. A topographical map of the 
region will prove very valuable, and this you can prob- 
ably secure at the State land office, the county seat, or at 
the United States land office. Locate your camp on the 


OUTDOOR ADVICE 31 1 

map. It is wise to pitch your tent near a stream, lake 
or road which will serve as a landmark. 

If the general course of the road or stream is east 
and west and you are to hunt north, you will only have 
to travel south to get back to your base line or camp. 
If your course varies to the east of north you should 
make the same distance west of south to get back to 
your starting point. Consult your compass often. Other- 
wise you may swing so far from your course in going 
only a short distance that you will be inclined to doubt 
the accuracy of the instrument. If you get bewildered 
and forget which way to go, always remember that a 
straight course in any direction will take you some- 

where. Level your compass and as soon as the needle 
stops vibrating take a sight on some object in exact 

alignment with your course and as far ahead as you can 
see. Walk to it and repeat the operation. A little 
practice will enable you to run an accurate line. 

A word about the shot-gun and the way to handle it 
may not be amiss. Never keep a loaded gun in camp; 
remove the cartridges as soon as you are within a hun- 
dred feet of the tent. Keep the gun well oiled and 
covered in camp, but wipe it carefully with a dry rag 
before starting on a hunt. Slippery guns have been 

responsible for some bad accidents. Never carry your 

gun cocked, and keep the muzzle lowered. Remember 
that what you have in your hands is a gun, and under 
no circumstances use it for any other purpose. 

To accustom yourself to the noise and recoil practice 
shooting at a mark. This will not make you a good 
shot, but will give you some idea of holding and sighting 
the gun. After you find you can send the centre of your 
charge into the centre of the target, practice on a moving 
mark, such as a tin can tossed into the air. The knack 
of hitting this is soon learned, especially if the can is 
tossed straight up. Then you will be ready for real 
field-work. 


312 


APPENDIX 


To the novice in field-work my advice is: aim care- 
fully, ^fire seldom. That is easy to say and hard to do, 
but the slap-bang style is out of vogue and never was 
beneficial to anyone in my estimation. It is all very well 
to talk of snap-shooting. To snap-shoot you must first 
learn to take aim and judge the swiftness of your bird 
and the direction of his line of flight. 

Therefore I repeat, aim carefully. I think the very 
best plan for the novice is to go into the field with shells 
loaded only with powder. I have tried it myself and 
know how it steadies a man’s hand and heart to realize 
that he has no shot in his cartridges and cannot possibly 
bag anything. At the same time there is plenty of interest 
left, the interest of accurate sighting and the belief that, 
if shot were present, certain birds would have come 
whirling down to the ground. In no other way can a 
beginner acquire so easily the necessary calmness that 
goes toward making a good shot. 

The next step is to use shells loaded with shot; but 
do not take more than half-a-dozen with you. You may 
fire the first two or three in a flurry, but the thought 
that you have only three left will steady you sur- 
prisingly. Unconsciously you will find yourself doing 
something you failed to do at first, that is, taking a 
careful aim. Do not be afraid to be called “pokey.” 
It is much better to do some conscientious sighting — 
and let the bird go unshot-at — than to blaze away hap- 
hazard while the game is still hanging before your face 
and eyes. 


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